^ 


Marjorie  had  played  the  best  of  anyone  since  the 
beginning  of  the  term. 
(The  Girl  Scouts'  Good  Turn}  Page  75 


THE   GIRL  SCOUTS' 
GOOD    TURN 

BY  EDITH  LAVELL 

AUTHOR  OF 

"The  Girl  Scouts  at  Miss  Allen's  School,"  "The  Girl 

Scouts  at  Camp,"  "The  Girl  Scouts'  Canoe 

Trip"  "The  Girl  Scouts'  Rivals." 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 


THE 

GIRL  SCOUTS  SERIES 

A  Series  of  Stories  for  Girl  Scouts 
By  EDITH  LAVELL 

The  Girl  Scouts  at  Miss  Allen's  School 
The  Girl  Scouts  at  Camp 
The  Girl  Scouts'  Good  Turn 
The  Girl  Scouts'  Canoe  Trip 
The  Girl  Scouts'  Rivals 


Copyright,  1922 
By  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 


THE  GIRL  SCOUTS'  GOOD  TURN 


Made  in  "U.  S.  A," 


THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 
GOOD  TURN 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   RECEPTION 

"And  it's  somewhere  there  in  fairyland- 
It's  where  the  rainbow  ends!" 


MARJORIE  WILKINSON  hummed  softly  to  herself 
as  she  skipped  from  place  to  place,  adding  the  fin- 
ishing touches  to  the  effect  she  and  her  committee 
had  planned. 

It  was  the  first  Saturday  of  the  regular  fall  term 
at  Miss  Allen's  Boarding  School.  The  girls  were 
back  again  in  their  old  places — all  except  the  seniors 
of  the  previous  year,  who  had  graduated — and  now 
the  sophomores  were  preparing  for  the  first  social 
event  of  the  year,  their  reception  to  the  freshmen. 
Marjorie  Wilkinson  was  chairman. 

The  clock  struck  seven,  and  she  stood  perfectly 
still  in  the  center  of  the  floor,  viewing  the  result  of 
their  work.  The  bare,  ugly  gymnasium  had  disap- 
peared; in  its  place  was  a  little  winter  scene  from 

3 


1824051 


I 


4  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

fairyland.  Cedar  branches,  decked  with  flakes  of 
artificial  snow,  and  great  white  snowbanks,  com- 
pletely hid  the  walls  from  view.  Spread  over  the 
floor,  except  for  a  space  in  the  middle  reserved  for 
dancing,  were  pine  needles  and  more  patches  of 
snow;  and  everywhere  frosty  tinsel  glimmered  in 
the  soft,  blue  light  of  the  covered  electric  bulbs. 

The  girls  walked  lightly  and  spoke  softly,  as  if 
they  feared  that  by  some  rude  noise  they  might  break 
the  magic  spell  of  the  scene. 

Marjorie,  wearing  her  first  real  party  dress — a 
pale  blue  georgette,  with  a  silver  sash,  and  a  narrow 
silver  band  about  her  forehead,  seemed  in  perfect 
harmony  with  the  blue  and  silver  of  the  scene.  But, 
standing  gracefully  erect,  with  one  satin-slippered 
foot  extended  in  front  of  the  other,  and  her  head 
thrown  back  as  she  contemplated  the  effect,  she  did 
not  think  of  the  impression  she  was  making.  It 
was  not  until  Lily  Andrews,  her  room-mate,  drew 
her  attention  to  her  costume  that  she  thought  of 
herself. 

"Your  dress  is  just  lovely  with  the  rest  of  the  ef- 
fect," she  said,  putting  her  arm  affectionately 
through  Marjorie's. 

"Thanks,  Lil,"  replied  the  other  girl  carelessly. 
"Isn't  the  room  wonderful  ?  I  think  it's  the  prettiest 
scene,  off  the  stage,  that  I  ever  saw !" 

"It's  lovely.  They  certainly  can't  help  liking  it, 
can  they?" 


GOOD  TURN  5 

"Poor  freshies!"  sighed  Marjorie,  with  the  in- 
finite wisdom  of  the  sophomore.  "Remember  how 
green  we  were?" 

"Indeed,  I  do — and  that  first  reception,  when  they 
still  had  the  sorority !  Didn't  we  just  think  Frances 
Wright  and  Ethel  Todd  were  nothing  short  of  god- 
desses? I  wonder  whether  these  freshmen  know 
about  our  Girl  Scout  troop,  and  are  as  eager  to  make 
it  as  we  were  the  sorority !" 

But  before  Lily  could  reply,  the  orchestra,  three 
players  who  came  from  the  city,  entered  the  room, 
and  Marjorie  hurried  over  to  give  them  the  final 
directions.  When  she  turned  around  again,  Lily 
had  vanished;  but  near  her  stood  Ruth  Henry,  her 
old  friend  from  her  home  town,  who  had  played 
the  part  of  jealous  rival  ever  since  the  girls  had 
been  at  Miss  Allen's. 

"Hello,  Marj!"  She  greeted  her  with  the  old 
familiarity ;  indeed,  the  girls  were  good  friends  now, 
in  spite  of  all  that  had  happened  the  previous  year. 
"Your  dress  is  sweet,"  she  added. 

"I'm  glad  you  like  it,  Ruth.  Yours  is  a  dream, 
too!" 

Ruth  sat  down  on  a  chair  nearby,  and  beckoned 
Marjorie  to  sit  beside  her. 

"The  freshies  aren't  here  yet,"  she  remarked. 
"We  might  as  well  rest.  I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing." 

Marjorie  complied  with  her  request  as  far  as  her 


6  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

physical  presence  was  concerned.  But  her  eyes  wan- 
dered from  one  place  to  another  over  the  room,  re- 
viewing the  effect,  and  her  mind  was  drifting  from 
what  Ruth  was  saying.  But  the  latter  hardly  no- 
ticed her  preoccupation,  so  intent  was  she  upon  her 
own  interests. 

"Listen,  Marj !"  She  reduced  her  voice  to  an  in- 
timate tone.  "Have  you  thought  about  our  class 
president?" 

"Our  president?" 

"Yes — not  Doris  Sands — of  course,  she  is  still 
president;  but  what  I  mean  is — our  next  president!" 

"No,  I  haven't,"  replied  Marjorie,  absently.  "I 
never  gave  it  a  thought.  Why?" 

"Well,  I  have ;  and  our  class  meeting  is  Monday 
evening,  you  know.  I  think  we  ought  to  talk  it 
over,  for  it's  important  to  get  just  the  right  girl." 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  admitted  Marjorie,  glancing 
nervously  towards  the  door.  "Why  do  you  s'pose 
they're  so  late,  Ruth?" 

"Oh,  they'll  be  along  soon,"  replied  Ruth,  with  an- 
noyance. "It's  hardly  half-past  seven." 

But  Marjorie  could  not  content  herself  to  sit  still 
any  longer. 

"Well,  it'll  be  hard  to  get  anybody  as  good  as 
Doris,"  she  said,  rising.  "I  wish  it  weren't  against 
the  Constitution  to  elect  her  over  again." 

"I  hear  my  name  being  taken  in  vain,"  said  a 
pleasant  voice,  and  the  girls  looked  up  to 


GOOD  TURN  7 

see  their  pretty  class  president  just  behind  them. 

"Pardon  me  for  interrupting  your  tete-a-tete,  but 
do  you  know  who  has  charge  of  the  games?"  she 
asked. 

"Lily,"  replied  Marjorie.  "But  you  needn't 
worry;  she's  all  prepared." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Doris,  glad  to  dismiss  the 
matter  from  her  mind.  Then,  "I  certainly  am  crazy 
to  get  acquainted  with  the  freshmen.  I  know  most 
of  them  by  sight  now,  and  I've  talked  to  two  or 
three,  but  I  don't  know  any  of  their  names." 

"Won't  it  be  fun  to  pick  out  the  Girl  Scouts?" 
remarked  Ruth. 

"But  we  don't  pick  them,  Ruth,"  protested  Mar- 
jorie ;  "they  pick  themselves." 

At  this  moment  half  a  dozen  freshmen  entered 
the  open  door  of  the  gymnasium,  and  the  girls  has- 
tened over  to  welcome  them  and  to  make  them  feel 
at  home.  They  walked  in  shyly,  hesitating  just  in- 
side the  door,  for  everything  was  new  and  strange 
to  them. 

Marjorie  was  seized  with  a  great  longing  to  seek 
out  all  the  retiring  ones  and  tell  them  that  she  would 
be  their  friend.  But  perhaps  some  of  the  freshmen 
might  resent  this,  and  interpret  her  attitude  as  con- 
descending. So  she  tried  to  content  herself  with 
entertaining  as  many  different  girls  as  she  could,  and 
remembering  as  many  names  as  possible. 

The  first  freshman  to  make  any  definite  impres- 


8  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

sion  upon  her  was  Florence  Evans,  sister  of  Edith 
Evans,  the  senior  who  had  served  as  Acting  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  troop  at  camp,  and  who  still  held  that 
office.  It  was  Florence  that  introduced  herself  to 
Marjorie.  Neither  bold  nor  shy,  with  a  little  more 
than  the  ordinary  amount  of  good  looks,  she  seemed 
unconsciously  to  possess  the  poise  of  her  older  sis- 
ter. 

"I  have  heard  so  much  about  you,  Marjorie,"  she 
said,  not  hesitating  in  the  least  to  use  the  older  girl's 
first  name;  "Edith  told  me  all  about  your  winning 
the  canoe  at  camp.  And  I  have  been  so  anxious 
to  meet  you!" 

"Thanks,"  replied  Marjorie,  sincerely  flattered 
that  the  senior  whom  she  admired  so  much  had  seen 
fit  to  mention  her  name  at  home.  "We  certainly 
did  have  a  wonderful  time  during  the  summer !" 

"I'm  crazy  to  be  a  Girl  Scout!"  said  Florence, 
enthusiastically.  "My  room-mate,  Mildred  Cavin" 
— she  nodded  toward  an  attractive  girl  a  few  feet 
away,  talking  to  Lily — "my  room-mate  and  I  talk 
of  nothing  else." 

Ruth,  who  overheard  the  remark,  smiled  with 
conscious  self-importance;  but  Marjorie's  thoughts 
flew  back  to  the  time  when  she  was  in  Florence's 
place :  a  freshman  eager  to  make  good  among  the 
upper  classmen.  But  then  it  was  a  question  of  popu- 
larity and  personal  favoritism ;  now  everything  was 
different. 


GOOD  TURN  9 

"It  all  depends  upon  yourself,  Florence,"  she  said. 
"You  can  become  a  Girl  Scout  if  you  will  work  hard 
enough.  You  must  receive  a  mark  of  over  eighty 
per  cent  on  your  first  report,  and  you  must  make 
the  hockey  squad.  Then  you'll  be  among  the  first 
to  join." 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  isn't  it  dreadfully  hard  to  get 
on  the  hockey  team?  With  so  many  upper  class- 
men, I  mean?" 

By  this  time  Mildred  Cavin,  Daisy  Gravers,  and 
Esther  Taylor — three  more  freshmen — had  joined 
them.  Evelyn  Hopkins,  Ruth  Henry's  room-mate, 
who  had  missed  making  both  the  sorority  and  the 
Scout  troop  the  previous  year,  sauntered  up,  just  as 
Florence  asked  the  question. 

"It's  an  impossibility!"  she  exclaimed,  pettishly. 
"At  least,  if  you're  not  in  right  with  Miss  Phillips, 
the  Gym  teacher  who  is  Captain  of  the  troop,  you 
don't  stand  one  bit  of  show!" 

Marjorie  colored  at  the  words  and  the  tone  of 
this  statement;  she  so  much  desired  that  her  class- 
mates appear  dignified  and  well-poised  to  the  fresh- 
men. 

Esther  Taylor,  a  stylish  girl  with  a  flippant  man- 
ner, laughed  derisively.  "Scouts  don't  mean  much 
in  my  young  life,"  she  said,  defiantly.  "I'm  no  sol- 
dier-girl!" 

Marjorie  did  not  feel  ready  to  go  into  the  ex- 
planation of  what  Girl  Scouts  really  stand  for;  she 


10  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

merely  arched  her  brows  and  looked  away  indiffer- 
ently. To  her  relief,  the  orchestra  struck  up  a  one- 
step,  and  the  girls  all  separated  to  dance. 

Games  and  dancing  followed  alternately,  until  the 
groups  were  entirely  broken  up,  and  everyone  was 
acquainted.  It  was  half-past  nine  when  an  intermis- 
sion was  called  for  refreshments  to  be  served. 

The  sophomores  disappeared  into  a  screened  cor- 
ner to  procure  the  ice-cream  for  their  guests,  and 
while  they  were  waiting  for  plates,  Marjorie  again 
encountered  Ruth. 

"It's  my  opinion,"  remarked  the  latter,  "that  we've 
struck  a  bunch  of  lemons!  I  haven't  met  a  single 
girl  so  far  that  has  pep  enough  to  organize  a  secret 
class  meeting,  or  put  up  any  kind  of  a  fight  against 
us  sophomores !  Why,  I  don't  believe  there  will  be 
one  girl  in  the  whole  freshman  class  who'll  make  the 
Girl  Scout  troop !" 

"I'd  be  willing  to  bet  a  box  of  the  best  chocolates 
made  that  Edith  Evans'  sister  makes  it!"  retorted 
Marjorie.  "She's  just  the  type !" 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  admitted  Ruth;  "but  if 
you'd  ever  talk  to  that  funny  little  thing  over  near 
the  piano,  you'd  be  disgusted  with  freshmen,  too. 
She  sort  of  keeps  her  mouth  open,  as  if  she  weren't 
quite  all  there,  and  makes  the  queerest  replies — or 
else  none  at  all.  But  she's  the  most  hopeless  one 
I've  struck  yet." 


GOOD  TURN  11 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Marjorie,  peeping  around 
the  screen  and  looking  towards  the  orchestra. 
"That  little  girl  in  pink  ?" 

"Yes — with  the  scared  look." 

"What's  her  name?" 

"Alice  Endicott,"  answered  Ruth.  Then,  "But 
why  all  this  interest,  Marj  ?" 

"No  special  reason,  except  that  I'm  sorry  for  any- 
body that  is  lonely.  I  think  I'll  try  to  make  friends 
with  her." 

"You  always  did  enjoy  the  'Big  Sister'  act,  didn't 
you?"  jeered  Ruth.  A  sarcastic  little  gleam  came 
into  her  eyes.  "How  about  Frieda  Hammer?"  she 
asked,  pointedly.  "She  didn't  turn  up,  did  she?" 

Ruth  referred  to  the  country  girl  whose  father 
had  worked  on  the  farm  where  the  Scout  camp  was 
situated  the  previous  summer.  The  girl  had  come 
to  the  kitchen  tent  three  separate  times,  at  night,  and 
upon  each  occasion  had  stolen  a  great  deal  of  food. 
Upon  the  final  occurrance  she  had  been  detected  and 
identified,  but  although  she  had  admitted  the  theft 
to  Miss  Phillips  when  she  was  later  accused,  she 
made  no  attempt  at  apology  or  explanation.  The 
girl's  ignorance,  her  wildness,  her  lack  of  advan- 
tages, had  touched  the  pity  of  Marjorie  and  Fran- 
ces, and  some  of  the  other  softer-hearted  Scouts; 
accordingly,  the  troop  had  voted  to  send  Frieda  to 
public  school  in  the  fall,  assuming  her  support  as 


12  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

their  public  Good  Turn.  Marjorie  had  been  tremen- 
dously enthusiastic  over  the  project,  while  Ruth,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  thrown  cold  water  upon  it  from 
the  beginning.  Now  that  the  girl  had  not  appeared 
as  she  had  promised,  Ruth  felt  elated ;  Marjorie,  in 
her  turn,  was  equally  cast  down. 

"She  may  come  yet!"  she  answered,  defiantly, 
putting  more  hope  into  her  tone  than  she  really  en- 
tertained. "Mrs.  Brubaker  wrote  to  Miss  Phillips 
that  Frieda's  baby  sister  was  sick!  So  probably 
she'll  come  in  a  week  or  so." 

Marjorie  succeeded  in  obtaining  two  plates  of  ice- 
cream and  some  cakes,  and,  holding  them  high  above 
the  heads  of  the  crowd,  made  her1  way  to  the  distant 
corner  indicated  by  Ruth.  She  found  the  freshman 
still  sitting  alone,  half  hidden  by  an  overhanging 
evergreen,  gazing  dejectedly  into  space. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Marjorie  pleasantly,  "may  I 
give  you  some  ice-cream  ?" 

The  girl  looked  up  suddenly,  and  for  an  instant 
her  brown  eyes  met  Marjorie's.  She  seemed  pale 
and  thin,  and  her  eyes  appeared  unusually  large  and 
liquid,  as  if  tears  were  never  far  from  the  surface. 

"Thank  you,"  she  muttered,  rising  and  taking  the 
plate.  , 

"And  may  I  sit  with  you?"  continued  the  older 
girl.  "At  least,  if  you  are  not  expecting " 

"No,  no ;  nobody  is  with  me !"    She  flushed  pain- 


GOOD  TURN  13 

fully  at  the  reference  to  her  own   unpopularity. 

"Ruth  Henry  said  she  was  just  talking  to  you," 
said  Marjorie  hastily,  trying  to  cover  her  embarrass- 
ment. "And  your  name  is  Alice  Endicott,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  who  is  your  room-mate  ?"  pursued  Marjorie, 
wondering  why  the  girl,  whoever  she  was,  should  de- 
sert Alice,  knowing  how  shy  she  was. 

"Esther  Taylor,"  replied  the  freshman;  "but  she 
doesn't  bother  much  with  me." 

It  was  obvious  that  poor  little  Alice  was  both 
homesick  and  lonely,  and  Marjorie's  heart  warmed 
toward  her  as  it  might  to  a  lost  child.  She  chatted 
pleasantly  all  through  the  intermission ;  then,  secur- 
ing her  a  partner  for  the  next  dance,  she  left  with 
the  promise  to  seek  her  again. 

When  the  party  was  all  over,  and  the  tired  sopho- 
mores were  getting  ready  for  bed,  Marjorie,  who 
still  felt  the  sting  of  Ruth's  taunt,  remarked  to  Lily, 

"Well,  if  we  can't  do  our  Good  Turn  for  Frieda 
Hammer,  we  can  do  one  right  here  for  the  new 
girls,  to  keep  them  from  being  homesick.  I,  for  one, 
intend  to  try." 

"I'm  with  you,"  agreed  Lily,  as  she  crawled  into 
bed. 

But  Ruth  Henry's  last  waking  thoughts  were  of 
a  different  nature :  how  she  might  best  succeed  in 
gaining  the  class  presidency  for  herself. 


14  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"If  I  go  at  the  thing  boldly,"  she  decided,  "there 
is  no  reason  why  I  should  fail.  And  I  mean  to  do  it, 
if  I  never  accomplish  another  thing  as  long  as  I'm 
at  Miss  Allen's!" 


GOOD  TURN  15 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    SOPHOMORE    PRESIDENT 

"ARE  you  going  to  'dress  for  Ruth's  tea?"  asked 
Doris  Sands  of  Marjorie  Wilkinson,  as  the  girls 
walked  out  of  the  dining-room  together. 

Marjorie  pulled  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth 
at  the  question.  It  did  seem  strange  to  her  that 
Ruth  Henry  should  have  decided  in  such  a  hurry  to 
give  a  tea.  There  must  be  something  behind  it! 
Probably  the  girl  was  making  a  play  for  popularity, 
so  that  she  might  be  elected  to  an  office. 

"I'm  not  going.  It's  just  at  the  time  of  hockey 
practice,  and,  of  course,  I  couldn't  miss  that.  Lily 
won't  be  there,  either." 

"I'm  sorry!"  murmured  Doris.  "Things  never 
seem  half  so  nice  without  you,  Marj !" 

Marjorie  smiled  gratefully ;  Doris  Sands  not  only 
said  pleasant  things,  but  one  knew  that  she  meant 
them.  It  was  too  bad  that  the  class  constitution  pro- 
hibited a  girl's  re-election  as  president.  The  sopho- 
more class  could  never  find  anyone  else  so  tactful,  so 
universally  popular  as  Doris,  Marjorie  thought. 


16  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Thanks,  Doris,"  she  said.  "But  I  don't  see  why 
Ruth  couldn't  give  us  more  notice,  so  that  we  might 
have  arranged  things  to  go.  She  never  said  a  word 
about  it  at  the  reception!" 

"Ruth  always  does  things  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment, and  for  queer  reasons,"  sighed  Doris,  for  the 
intricacies  of  the  workings  of  Ruth's  mind  were  too 
complicated  for  her  simple,  straightforward  nature 
to  comprehend.  She  and  Ruth  were  exceptionally 
good  friends ;  but  then  Doris  Sands  was  the  sort  of 
girl  who  could  get  along  with  anybody.  She  never 
thought  of  Ruth  as  self-seeking;  she  merely  attribu- 
ted the  measure  of  success  she  obtained  to  clever- 
ness. She  always  looked  for  the  best  in  everybody. 

When  Marjorie  and  Ruth  had  entered  the  semi- 
nary the  previous  fall,  there  had  been  thirty-five  girls 
in  the  class.  Now  the  membership  had  decreased 
to  twenty-five,  and  they  were  all  on  rather  intimate 
terms.  Five  of  these  were  Girl  Scouts :  Anna  Cane, 
Doris  Sands,  Lily  Andrews,  Ruth  and  Marjorie. 
These  were  the  envied  few,  the  inner  circle,  the  lead- 
ers of  the  class.  From  their  number  everyone  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  Evelyn  Hopkins,  who  always  coveted 
good  things  for  herself,  expected  the  class  president 
to  be  chosen. 

Ruth  had  invited  all  twenty-five  girls  to  her  tea, 
although  she  and  her  room-mate,  Evelyn  Hopkins, 
scarcely  hoped  to  be  able  to  pack  that  number  into 


GOOD  TURN  17 

their  room.  However,  all  did  not  accept  the  invita- 
tion; only  fifteen  or  sixteen  finally  appeared. 

Doris  and  Evelyn  were  passing  sandwiches  and 
cakes,  while  Ruth  poured  the  cocoa.  The  conver- 
sation, which  buzzed  from  groups  in  all  parts  of  the 
room,  was  suddenly  silenced  by  the  hostess's  general 
remark, 

"Girls,"  she  said,  still  standing  beside  the  wicker 
tea-table  in  the  corner,  "I  guess  you  wondered  why 
I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  entertain  you,  but  the  fact 
is,  I  thought  it  would  be  nice  to  have  a  little  infor- 
mal discussion  about  class  matters  before  the  meet- 
ing to-night.  Because  we  don't  want  to  conduct  our 
affairs  just  any  old  way,  hit  or  miss;  we  want  to 
make  ours  the  best  class  ever !" 

"Hurray !"  cheered  Doris ;  "you've  surely  got  the 
right  spirit,  Ruth." 

Encouraged  by  the  applause  of  the  president,  Ruth 
continued, 

"We  want  a  good  strong  organization,  to  keep 
those  f reshies  from  getting  their  secret  meeting,  and 
electing  a  class  president ;  we  want  an  efficient  presi- 
dent ourselves — not  that  we  can  ever  get  one  as  good 
as  our  last  year's" — she  smiled  admiringly  at  Doris 
— "who  will  systematize  the  whole  thing !  What  do 
you  all  think?" 

"Good  for  you,  Ruth !"  cried  Barbara  Hill,  a  quiet 
little  girl  who  had  always  admired  Ruth's  courage. 


18  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"We  want  somebody  that  will  put  heart  and  soul 
into  the  job!" 

"I  don't  think  we  ought  to  discuss  each  other 
now,"  explained  Ruth;  "that  would  be  too  embar- 
rassing. But  I  just  want  everybody  to  think,  and 
think  hard,  and  not  vote  for  a  girl  just  because  she's 
popular." 

"I  think  Marj  Wilkinson  would  be  dandy!"  re- 
marked Anna  Cane ; — "by  the  way,  she  isn't  here  this 
afternoon,  is  she?  I  wonder  why?" 

Ruth  felt  a  cold  shiver  pass  over  her;  no  matter 
how  hard  she  tried  to  evade  her,  her  old  rival 
seemed  to  confront  her  upon  every  occasion.  She 
had  really  planned  the  tea  for  a  time  when  she  knew 
Marjorie  could  not  come,  so  that  she  might  put  her 
out  of  her  class-mates'  minds;  but  here  she  seemed 
to  appear  in  the  spirit,  as  if  to  mock  her !  Was  this 
fate — for  the  way  she  had  treated  Marjorie  the  pre- 
vious year — or  was  it  merely  her  own  conscience  that 
caused  her  to  dread  the  mention  of  the  other  girl's 
name  for  honors  that  she  coveted  for  herself? 

She  reached  over  and  put  a  lump  of  sugar  into 
her  cup  of  cocoa  before  she  trusted  herself  to  reply. 
When  she  spoke  again,  her  voice  was  perfectly  nat- 
ural. 

"Marj  would  certainly  be  great  as  president,"  she 
said  sweetly;  "except  for  one  thing — and  that's  the 
very  thing  that's  keeping  her  away  this  afternoon  • 
she's  more  interested  in  athletics  and  Scout  activi- 


GOOD  TURN  19 

ties — in  fact,  anything  where  Miss  Phillips  is  con- 
cerned"— she  paused  for  a  second  to  allow  the  girls 
who  were  not  Scouts  time  to  think  it  over — "more 
interested  than  she  is  in  class  affairs !  I  begged  and 
begged  her  to  give  up  hockey  this  afternoon,  but  she 
wouldn't !  And  I  think  our  president,  whoever  she 
is,  especially  at  this  important  time,  should  give  all 
the  interest  possible  to  the  class." 

"That's  right,  Ruth,"  agreed  Evelyn,  who  had 
really  been  coached  upon  what  to  say  in  the  case  of 
such  a  situation  arising.  "And  another  thing — why 
don't  we  save  Marj  for  senior  president?  She'd 
make  a  perfectly  wonderful  one  then !" 

"Yes,  that's  a  good  idea,"  commented  Doris ;  and 
here  the  conversation  lost  its  general  tone.  But 
Ruth  felt  satisfied;  the  purpose  of  her  tea  had  not 
been  in  vain.  She  had  sown  the  seed  of  opposition 
to  Marjorie,  and  even  if  she  herself  were  not  elected 
to  the  office,  she  would  have  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  she  had  kept  Marjorie  from  it.  And 
senior  year  was  a  long  way  off;  perhaps  Marjorie 
might  lose  her  popularity  by  then.  At  any  rate,  she 
felt  assured  that  the  present  danger  was  avoided. 

It  was  only  quarter  of  eight  when  she  and  Evelyn 
made  their  way  to  the  English  class-room,  where 
Doris  had  scheduled  the  class  meeting.  The  presi- 
dent and  one  or  two  others  were  already  there.  But 
Ruth  had  no  intention  of  discussing  the  matter 
again ;  indeed,  her  idea  in  coming  early  was  to  ward 


20  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

off  any  attempt  to  change  the  sentiment  she  had 
started  at  her  tea. 

By  eight  o'clock,  nearly  twenty  girls  had  arrived, 
and  Doris  called  the  meeting  to  order. 

"I  don't  see  why  people  can't  be  interested  enough 
to  come  on  time!"  remarked  Ruth,  significantly. 
The  observation  seemed  general,  but  as  Marjorie 
Wilkinson  and  Lily  Andrews  entered  the  room  a 
few  minutes  later,  when  the  roll  was  being  called, 
the  girls  remembered  the  remark,  and  the  shaft  went 
home. 

"I  certainly  want  to  congratulate  the  reception 
committee,"  said  Doris  at  the  beginning  of  the  meet- 
ing,— "and  particularly  Marjorie  Wilkinson  as 
chairman.  I'm  sure  we  couldn't  have  given  the 
freshmen  a  lovelier  party!" 

Marjorie  blushed  modestly  at  the  praise,  and  Ruth 
smiled  artificially.  No  one  must  think  she  minded 
Marjorie's  success. 

"Madame  President!"  said  Marjorie,  rising, 
"would  it  be  in  order  to  make  a  suggestion  along 
the  same  line?" 

"Certainly,"  nodded  Doris. 

"Well,"  she  explained,  "I  noticed  at  the  party — 
and  later — that  a  number  of  our  freshmen  were 
pretty  homesick.  Now  wouldn't  it  be  possible  for 
each  girl  in  our  class  to  sort  of  'adopt'  a  particular 
girl,  to  look  out  for  her,  and  try  to  make  her  happy? 
I  know  that  the  Y.W.C.A.  has  instituted  that  cus- 


GOOD  TURN  21 

torn  in  several  of  the  colleges,  and  it  works  splen- 
didly." 

"I  think  that  is  a  charming  idea,  Marjorie,"  said 
Doris.  "What  do  the  rest  of  the  class  think  ?" 

Ruth  instantly  thought  of  all  sorts  of  objections, 
but  hesitated  to  be  the  first  to  voice  them,  lest  her 
opposition  might  seem  too  pointed.  She  winked 
slyly  at  Evelyn;  she  could  depend  upon  her  to  rally 
to  her  cause. 

"Madame  President,"  said  Evelyn,  interpreting 
Ruth's  silent  request,  "would  there  be  enough  of  us? 
Aren't  there  forty  freshmen?" 

"I  thought  of  that,"  answered  Marjorie;  "but  I 
am  sure  the  juniors  would  help." 

"Juniors!"  exclaimed  Barbara  Hill,  scornfully. 
"We  wouldn't  want  a  rival  class  to  come  to  our 
assistance,  would  we?" 

"Seniors,  then,"  replied  Marjorie,  with  annoyance 
in  her  tone.  She  was  interested  in  the  idea  itself, 
not  in  the  details  of  its  execution. 

"I  think  Marjorie's  plan  is  wonderful,"  put  in 
Ruth,  deciding  at  this  point  that  she  could  remain 
out  of  the  discussion  no  longer,  "but  I  have  one 
suggestion  to  make.  You  know  yourselves  that 
girls  of  our  age  don't  like  to  be  pitied  and  petted! 
Let's  do  something,  certainly,  just  as  Marjorie  pro- 
poses, to  make  the  freshmen  feel  at  home,  but  I 
would  advise  that  we  do  everything  in  our  power 
to  give  them  a  good,  lively  interest — that  instead  of 


22  THE  GIRL  SCO  UTS' 

treating  them  like  the  Infant  Department  of  a  Sun- 
day School,  we  take  away  their  loneliness  by  some 
good  stiff  rivalry !  Let's  call  them  together,  and  tell 
them  more  about  their  secret  class  meeting,  and  chal- 
lenge them  to  try  to  outwit  us !  They'll  be  so  busy, 
and  they'll  develop  so  much  real  class  spirit  that 
they  won't  have  time  to  get  blue." 

"I  think  that's  great !"  cried  Evelyn,  jumping  up 
impulsively.  "Let's  get  the  thing  started  right 
away." 

"Perhaps  we  had  better  have  our  class  elections 
first,"  said  Doris,  glancing  at  her  watch.  "Then 
we  can  continue  with  the  discussion  afterwards,  till 
nine  o'clock,  for  I  promised  Miss  Allen  I'd  close 
promptly.  Nominations  are  now  in  order!" 

"I  nominate  Ruth  Henry !"  said  Barbara  Hill,  still 
glowing  with  admiration  of  the  girl. 

"I  nominate  Lily  Andrews !"  announced  Marjorie, 
to  the  surprise  of  everyone. 

"I  nominate  Evelyn  Hopkins!"  declared  Ruth, 
glorying  in  the  fact  that  her  loyalty  to  her  room- 
mate would  be  silently  applauded. 

"And  I  move  that  the  nominations  be  closed!" 
chimed  in  Barbara,  again. 

The  whole  thing  had  been  done  so  quickly  that 
Marjorie's  especial  friends  hardly  realized  that  her 
chances  for  class  presidency  had  vanished  com- 
pletely. Marjorie  herself  did  not  mind:  her  atten- 
tion was  so  taken  up  with  hockey  and  freshmen  and 


GOOD  TURN  23 

Scout  activities,  that  she  had  scarcely  given  the  mat- 
ter a  thought.  Nor  did  Lily,  stunned  as  she  was  at 
the  proposal  of  her  own  name  for  the  office,  realize 
her  room-mate's  exclusion.  But  Ruth  was  so  exult- 
ant that  she  could  hardly  refrain  from  crying  out 
in  her  joy.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her  dearest  wish 
was  about  to  come  true.  Two  easier  opponents,  she 
thought,  could  not  possibly  have  been  selected :  Lily 
Andrews  would  never  be  elected — she  was  too  fat 
and  plain;  and  Evelyn  Hopkins — light,  frivolous, 
self-centered  girl  that  she  was — was  decidedly  un- 
popular. The  outcome  of  the  business  seemed  as- 
sured in  Ruth's  favor;  she  was  so  certain  of  her 
own  election,  that  she  did  not  even  bother  to  vote 
for  herself,  but  instead  cast  her  ballot  for  Evelyn. 

Clerks  and  a  judge  of  the  election  were  appointed, 
and  the  voting  was  quickly  concluded.  While  they 
withdrew  to  count  the  ballots,  the  others  proceeded 
to  discuss  a  time  at  which  to  call  the  freshmen  class 
together,  to  emphasize  the  importance  of  securing 
their  own  meeting.  Wednesday  afternoon  was  fi- 
nally decided  upon. 

The  judge  of  elections  returned,  and  stood  beside 
Doris.  Ruth  looked  at  the  girl  closely,  vainly  at- 
tempting to  ascertain  from  her  expression  the  out- 
come of  the  election ;  but  the  latter  reurned  her  only 
an  impersonal  stare. 

"There  was  a  tie,"  she  announced,  "between  Lily 
Andrews  and  Ruth  Henry,  each  candidate  having 


24  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

received  nine  votes.  We  shall  need  to  have  an- 
other ballot  between  these  two." 

Ruth  almost  gasped  at  the  announcement;  quick 
figuring  allowed  her  to  conclude  that  Evelyn  must 
have  received  seven  votes !  Undoubtedly  the  girl  had 
voted  for  herself,  and,  of  course,  Ruth  had  cast  hers 
in  her  favor — but  where  had  she  obtained  the  other 
five  ?  Ruth  forgot  to  reckon  on  the  fact  that  a  num- 
ber of  girls  outside  of  the  Scout  troop  were  more 
or  less  jealous  of  their  successful  rivals,  and  would 
vote  for  Evelyn  simply  because  she  was  not  a  Girl 
Scout. 

"I'll  fix  that,"  thought  Ruth;  'Til  just  vote  for 
myself  this  time!" 

Ruth  smiled  confidently  as  the  judge  again  re- 
turned with  her  decision,  she  was  so  sure  of  victory. 
Now  she  was  glad  she  had  not  made  the  office  be- 
fore ;  it  would  be  so  much  more  honor  to  be  sopho- 
more president ! 

"I  have  the  honor  to  declare  that  our  next  presi- 
dent will  be  Lily  Andrews!"  announced  the  girl 
briefly,  and  resumed  her  seat. 

And,  amid  shouts  and  applause,  the  meeting  broke 
up,  for  the  hour  of  nine  had  struck. 

Ruth  Henry  was  defeated  again,  but  not  wholly 
so;  for  Marjorie's  plan  for  befriending  homesick 
freshmen  had  been  put  aside,  and  her  chance  of  be- 
coming president  lost.  But — her  rival's  candidate 
had  won! 


GOOD  TURN  25 


CHAPTER  III 
MARJORIE'S  FRESHMAN 

IF  Marjorie  was  disappointed  at  the  failure  of 
her  plan,  she  was  tremendously  elated  over  her  room- 
mate's election  to  the  class  presidency.  Lily  An- 
drews was  not  a  girl  who  was  naturally  popular  like 
Doris  Sands,  or  Marjorie  herself.  She  had  fought 
valiantly  for  everything  she  had  achieved,  and  her 
triumph,  therefore,  was  all  the  more  precious. 

For  an  instant,  while  the  vote  was  being  taken, 
Ruth  had  thought  of  the  Lily  Andrews  that  had 
first  appeared  at  Miss  Allen's — extravagantly  over- 
dressed, noticeably  fat,  and  crude  in  every  respect. 
She  had  smiled  confidently  at  the  picture,  scorning 
the  idea  that  such  a  girl  could  ever  stand  a  chance 
against  her. 

But  Ruth  had  not  counted  on  the  fairness  of  the 
girls  at  Miss  Allen's:  they  thought  of  their  new 
president,  not  as  she  had  been,  but  as  she  was  now ; 
and  because  Lily  had  put  aside  her  extravagant 
taste,  had  resolutely  trained  herself  down  by  self- 
denial,  and  had  even  done  creditably  in  athletics,  she 


26  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

was  greatly  admired.  Besides  this,  Lily  Andrews 
was  genuine — and  so  loyal !  Moreover,  all  the  girls, 
even  those  who  were  not  Scouts  and  therefore  knew 
nothing  about  Ruth's  disgraceful  trick  against  Mar- 
jorie  the  previous  year,  often  had  cause  to  doubt 
the  former's  sincerity. 

Lily  herself  was  too  much  overcome  with  surprise 
to  realize  it  all  at  once.  She  walked  out  of  the  room 
with  Marjorie's  arm  around  her,  still  under  the  im- 
pression that  she  must  be  dreaming. 

When  they  reached  their  own  room  Lily  sank 
down  into  a  chair,  exhausted  from  the  excitement. 

"Marj,  what  ever  made  you  nominate  me?"  she 
cried.  "I'm  not  the  stuff  presidents  are  made  of — 
like  you  and  Doris !" 

"Oh,  but  you  are — or  you  wouldn't  have  gotten 
it!" 

"I  got  it  because  they  didn't  put  anybody  good 
against  me!  I  had  meant  to  nominate  you;  but  be- 
fore I  had  a  chance,  Barbara  moved  that  the  nomina- 
tions be  closed.  But  you  led  me  into  it — now  you 
must  tell  me  what  to  do !" 

She  looked  at  her  room-mate  imploringly,  as  if 
she  were  already  bowed  down  with  the  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility. 

"I'm  sorry,  Lil,  but  I  can't  tell  you,"  laughed  Mar- 
jorie.    "You  know  I've  never  been  president." 
"That's  true!     Oh,  say,  Marj,  wasn't  Ruth  the 


GOOD  TURN  27 

surprised  girl  when  she  heard  I  got  it?  I  couldn't 
help  watching  her  face,  and  I  nearly  died!" 

Marjorie,  too,  had  enjoyed  the  situation  im- 
mensely ;  for  while  she  usually  disliked  seeing  anyone 
disappointed,  Ruth  had  been  so  over-confident,  and 
so  scornful  of  Lily  the  preceding  year,  that  she 
could  not  help  being  glad  of  the  outcome.  Then,  a 
sudden  thought  struck  her. 

"You  asked  me  what  I'd  do,  Lil,"  she  said.  "I'd 
advise  you  to  enlist  Ruth's  help !" 

"Ruth  Henry?"    This  in  consternation. 

"Yes ;  for  this  reason :  she  has  had  a  big  disap- 
pointment in  not  being  elected  herself,  and  I  know 
Ruth  well  enough  to  realize  that  when  she  is  disap- 
pointed, she  often  gets  spiteful.  So,  if  you  take  my 
advice,  you  will  make  her  your  friend  before  she 
has  a  chance  to  become  your  enemy !" 

Lily  weighed  carefully  the  suggestion  put  forth 
by  her  room-mate.  She  nodded  her  head  slightly  in 
her  approval  of  the  plan. 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  she  said.  "I  had,  of 
course,  thought  of  consulting  Doris,  and  I  suppose 
I  might  as  well  include  Ruth.  It  can't  do  any 
harm." 

The  next  day  was  one  of  those  beautiful  mild 
days  that  would  seem  to  belong  rather  to  summer 
than  to  autumn.  The  windows  all  over  the  school 
were  vide  open;  the  sound  of  lawn-mowers  could 
be  heard  in  the  distance ;  the  drowsy  warmth  of  the 


28  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

air  made  the  girls  think  of  Commencement  time. 

Resolutely  putting  aside  her  desire  to  be  lazy,  and 
oppressed  by  the  thought  of  her  official  duties,  Lily 
Andrews  decided  to  devote  the  afternoon  to  a  con- 
sultation with  Doris  Sands,  the  out-going  presi- 
dent. 

But  Marjorie  shared  no  such  cares.  Freed  from 
hockey  practice,  and  planning  to  study  her  lessons  in 
the  evening,  her  thoughts  flew  to  her  canoe — that 
beautiful  prize  she  had  won  at  the  summer  camp. 
What  could  possibly  be  more  delightful  than  an 
afternoon  spent  in  paddling  and  drifting  about  the 
lake,  with  her  copy  of  Alfred  Noyes'  poems  to  glance 
into  now  and  then?  The  idea  was  so  alluring  that 
she  could  hardly  force  herself  to  sit  through  lunch- 
eon. 

As  a  rule  Marjorie  Wilkinson  was  a  sociable  be- 
ing— she  enjoyed  other  girls'  companionship,  and 
possessed  an  unusual  quality  of  friendliness.  But 
to-day  she  felt  dreamy ;  she  longed  to  get  away  from 
everybody,  where  conversation  would  be  unneces- 
sary, and  where  she  could  give  herself  up  to  her  own 
drowsy  imaginings.  For  she  had  many  happy  things 
to  think  about.  That  very  morning  she  had  received 
a  letter — nothing  thrilling  in  it,  but  just  an  interest- 
ing, boyish  account  of  activities  at  Princeton — whose 
signature  had  made  her  heart  beat  more  rapidly.  For 
it  was  from  John  Hadley,  the  boy  whom  she  had 
liked  and  admired  most  of  all  the  Boy  Scouts  the 


GOOD  TURN  29 

previous  year.  The  very  fact  that  he  should  still 
think  of  her  amidst  all  the  rush  of  his  busy  college 
life  flattered  her,  and  set  her  to  dreaming. 

So  she  found  her  book  and  started  for  the  lake, 
only  to  remember,  when  she  had  gone  half  of  the 
distance,  that  she  had  left  her  paddle  in  the  closet. 

"I  believe  I'll  leave  it  in  the  canoe  after  this,"  she 
decided;  "nobody  would  ever  think  of  taking  the 
canoe,  and  it  would  be  so  much  less  trouble.  And 
I'd  probably  go  out  oftener  if  I  didn't  have  to  come 
up  here  for  the  paddle  every  time." 

She  hurried  across  the  sun-lit  campus,  through  the 
trees,  to  the  little  lake.  There  under  a  weeping-wil- 
low, lay  the  canoe. 

A  thrill  of  delight  passed  over  her  as  she  turned 
the  canoe  right  side  up;  the  possession  of  such  a 
beautiful  object  had  never  lost  its  charm.  She  won- 
dered whether  she  was  selfish  in  enjoying  it  alone, 
but  dismissed  the  idea  when  she  recalled  the  fact  that 
Lily  and  Doris  and  Ruth  would  all  be  occupied  with 
their  own  affairs. 

The  picturesque  scene — only  a  tiny  lake  in  com- 
parison with  the  one  at  camp — and  the  smooth,  glid- 
ing motion  of  the  canoe  were  in  perfect  harmony 
with  the  girl's  mood  and  the  quiet,  peaceful  day.  She 
began  to  hum  softly  to  the  rhythmic  dip,  dip  of  the 
paddle  into  the  still  water. 

"If  John  Hadley  were  only  at  Episcopal  Academy 
now,"  she  mused,  "maybe  we  could  sneak  some  good 


30  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

times !"  Then  she  fell  to  dreaming  that  he  suddenly 
appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  that  they  spent 
the  afternoon  together.  But  when  the  thought  re- 
called to  her  mind  the  consequences  of  that  other 
stolen  meeting,  at  camp,  she  actually  laughed  aloud. 

Her  laughter  evidently  startled  some  one  on  the 
bank,  for  there  immediately  followed  a  gasp,  and 
then  a  suppressed  sob.  Mar j one  stopped  paddling. 

"Who's  there  ?"  she  called,  softly.  "Can  I  do  any- 
thing to  help " 

A  very  mussed,  woe-begone  figure  emerged  from 
behind  a  clump  of  rhododendrons.  Her  hair 
streamed  in  her  eyes,  her  summer  dress  bore  evidence 
of  a  careless  position,  and  her  tear-stained  cheeks  of 
weeping.  It  was  Alice  Endicott,  the  little  freshman 
whom  Ruth  had  made  such  fun  of  at  the  sophomore 
reception.  And  she  was  evidently  in  the  deepest  dis- 
tress. 

"Alice !"  exclaimed  Marjorie,  in  surprise.  "Why, 
what  is  the  matter?" 

"Nothing!"  sobbed  the  girl  forlornly.  Then, 
"Everything!" 

Both  remarks,  so  entirely  opposite,  were  no  doubt 
correct.  Nothing  really  was  the  matter,  and  yet 
everything  was  wrong ;  for  Alice  Endicott  was  hope- 
lessly homesick. 

Marjorie  ran  the  nose  of  her  canoe  aground  upon 
the  low  bank  and  begged  Alice  to  get  in.  Hardly 
knowing  what  she  was  about,  the  younger  girl 


GOOD  TURN  31 

climbed  into  the  bow  and  sank  down  facing  Mar- 
jorie. 

"Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Marjorie,  in  the 
most  sympathetic  tone  imaginable.  She  thought  of 
her  own  first  days  at  the  school,  when  Ruth,  obvi- 
ously so  popular,  had  totally  neglected  her,  and  when 
her  own  roommate,  Lily  Andrews,  had  seemed  im- 
possible. Remorseful,  too,  because  of  her  own  sel- 
fish happiness,  she  felt  more  eager  than  ever  to  com- 
fort the  lonely  freshman.  But  it  was  a  difficult  mat- 
ter, she  knew. 

"I  want  to  go  home,"  sobbed  Alice,  with  her  hand- 
kerchief at  her  eyes. 

"No,  no!"  protested  Marjorie.  "Please  give  us 
another  chance.  Don't  you  like  it  a  bit  here  ?" 

"I  hate  it!"  exclaimed  the  other,  with  more  em- 
phasis than  Marjorie  thought  her  capable  of. 
"You're  the  only  girl  who's  been  even  half  decent  to 
me." 

"And  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,"  muttered  Marjorie 
sadly.  "But  please  forgive  us  all,  Alice;  we  didn't 
realize  how  you  felt.  Won't  you,  please — and  wait 
a  day  or  two  while  you  decide  whether  you  want  to 
stay  or  not  ?" 

Alice  stopped  crying;  she  was  really  surprised  at 
Marjorie's  sincerity  in  assuming  the  blame  herself. 
Still,  she  pursued  her  same  line  of  argument. 

"There's  nothing  here  that  I  can't  get  in  school 
near  home." 


32  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

Marjorie  was  silent;  was  this  accusation  true? 
Was  Miss  Allen's  really  nicer  than  any  other  school, 
or  was  it  merely  her  own  opinion?  She  met  the 
question  fairly,  searching  her  mind  truthfully  for  an 
answer.  At  last  she  found  one :  in  the  eyes  of  even 
unprejudiced  observers,  it  must  appear  to  excel  all 
other  schools — because  of  its  Girl  Scout  troop! 

And  so  she  replied  to  Alice's  challenge  with  a 
description  of  the  troop,  and  of  the  big  organization 
of  which  it  was  a  part,  telling  of  its  principles  and  its 
aims;  relating  stories  of  the  hikes,  the  parties,  the 
good  times  with  the  Boy  Scouts,  and — best  of  all — 
of  the  wonderful  camping  trip  during  the  vacation. 
She  told  her  about  the  contest,  that  the  very  canoe  in 
which  they  were  sitting  was  a  reward  from  the  Girl 
Scouts. 

"So  you  see,"  concluded  Marjorie,  "you  can  have 
a  great  big  aim  here,  and  you  can  begin  right  now 
to  do  such  good  work  that  you'll  be  a  Scout  as  soon 
as  the  first  report  comes  out !" 

"But "  said  Alice  slowly,  dipping  her  hand 

idly  into  the  water — "but  suppose  I  don't  make  it !" 

Marjorie  drew  a  quick  breath.  Suppose  she  did 
not!  Suppose,  like  herself,  she  should  lose  out! 
Then,  in  a  flash,  Marjorie  became  aware  of  a  great 
truth:  the  value  of  human  suffering.  Up  to  this 
time,  she  could  never  quite  see  any  good  in  her  for- 
mer disappointment;  now  she  realized  that  it  made 
her  akin  to  all  the  others  in  the  world  who  had  suf- 


GOOD  TURN  33 

fered,  and  would  suffer  again.  She  could  under- 
stand, and  she  could  comfort  Alice  from  the  depths 
of  her  own  experience,  just  as  Miss  Phillips  had 
comforted  her. 

"And  if  you  missed  out,  you  would  try  again!" 
she  said,  proceeding  to  recount  the  story  of  her  own 
failure,  being  careful,  however,  to  leave  Ruth's  part 
out  of  the  narrative. 

As  the  sun  sank  lower,  the  girls  talked  on,  until 
Marjorie  noticed  that  it  was  time  to  dress  for  din- 
ner. Alice  seemed  quite  happy  now,  and  even  smiled 
at  the  dirty  smudges  on  her  nose  which  she  saw  re- 
flected in  the  tiny  mirror  on  the  bottom  of  Marjorie's 
powder  puff. 

"I  guess  I  was  pretty  silly,"  she  admitted,  as  the 
girls  strolled  across  the  campus  together.  "But  my 
room-mate,  Esther  Taylor,  never  pays  the  slightest 
attention  to  me,  and  I  was  pretty  lonely.  But  I  won't 
be  again."  She  smiled  shyly  up  into  Marjorie's  face. 
"For  I  know  now  that  I  have  a  friend." 

"Indeed  you  have,"  assured  the  older  girl,  pressing 
her  hand.  "And  you  have  a  big  aim  before  you.  I 
shall  be  terribly  disappointed,  Alice,  if  you  don't 
make  the  Girl  Scout  troop !" 

"I  will  make  it !"  she  replied  resolutely ;  and  Mar- 
jorie believed  her. 

"Promise  to  come  to  see  me  every  day,"  urged 
Marjorie,  as  Alice  turned  to  leave  her  at  the  door  of 
her  room. 


34  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"I'd  love  to!  But  you'll  get  tired  of  me,  I'm 
afraid." 

"No,  I  won't!  And  remember — you're  my  fresh- 
man!" 

"And  it  all  goes  to  prove,"  she  thought  as  she 
closed  the  door  of  her  room,  "that  Ruth  may  block 
my  plans,  but  she  can't  influence  the  real  me !  And 
I've  really  won,  after  all !" 


GOOD  TURN  35 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    FIRST    SCOUT    MEETING 

IF  THE  members  of  Pansy  troop  could  have  con- 
sulted their  own  wishes,  they  would  have  held  a 
Scout  meeting  as  soon  as  all  the  girls  had  arrived  at 
school.  But  Miss  Phillips  had  declared  that  such  a 
thing  was  impossible;  there  were  too  many  other 
matters  to  attend  to. 

School  had  opened  on  Thursday,  and  the  first  real 
event  outside  of  the  regular  program  had  been  the 
sophomore  reception.  It  was  not  until  over  a  week 
afterward,  on  Friday  evening,  that  the  Girl  Scouts 
met  for  the  first  time. 

The  meeting  was  scheduled  for  seven-thirty,  but 
by  a  quarter  after  the  hour,  everyone  of  the  fifteen 
girls  had  arrived. 

Every  Scout  wore  her  uniform;  as  each  one  en- 
tered the  little  room  which  had  been  set  aside  by  Miss 
Allen  for  the  troop,  she  saluted  the  Captain,  who  sat 
at  a  desk  in  the  front.  It  seemed  like  old  times; 
only  the  two  seniors,  who  had  been  graduated,  were 


36  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

missing.  The  present  members  could  not  help  thmlc- 
ing  of  them. 

"Too  bad  we  can't  stay  at  Miss  Allen's  forever," 
remarked  Marjorie;  "it  seems  awful  to  think  we  had 
to  lose  two  Scouts." 

"But  we'll  get  more,"  observed  Ruth,  optimistic- 
ally, who  had  never  been  a  girl  of  deep  friendships. 

"And  next  year  Edith  and  Helen  will  be  gone," 
continued  Marjorie — "and  the  others." 

For  an  instant  she  came  face  to  face  with  the  great 
fact  that  has  staggered  the  individual  since  the  be- 
ginning of  civilization — the  realization  of  the  cease- 
less passage  of  time.  Marjorie  reflected,  with  a  cer- 
tain sense  of  sadness,  that  she  too  must  graduate,  and 
leave  the  school  and  the  Scout  troop  to  younger  girls. 
The  thought  sobered  her;  it  was  with  an  effort  that 
she  turned  her  attention  to  the  Captain,  as  she  called 
the  Scouts  to  order. 

"We  shall  begin  a  trifle  early,"  explained  Miss 
Phillips,  "since  everybody  is  here,  for  there  is  a  great 
deal  to  talk  about.  Now — Troop,  Attention!" 

The  usual  opening  ceremony  was  performed,  to- 
gether with  the  recitation  of  the  Scout  laws  and 
pledge.  It  was  so  familiar  to  them  all  that  they 
hardly  thought  of  the  words  as  they  repeated  them; 
to  Marjorie,  however,  they  were  impressive,  for  she 
had  not  been  a  member  of  the  troop  so  long  as  the 
other  girls. 

The  treasurer  made  her  statement,  and  the  dues 


GOOD  TURN  87 

were  collected.  As  there  were  no  committees  to  re- 
port, the  Captain  proceeded  immediately  to  "old  busi- 
ness." 

"I  suppose  you  are  all  eager  to  hear  about  our 
troop's  Good  Turn,"  she  began,  "and  I  am  very  glad 
to  be  able  to  tell  you  something  favorable.  But  first, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  girls  who  were  not  at  camp, 
let  me  explain  that  the  troop  met  and  decided  to  send 
a  poor,  ignorant,  badly  brought-up  country  girl  to 
public  school  in  this  town,  and  to  pay  her  board  and 
buy  her  clothing  all  year.  Her  name  is  Frieda  Ham- 
mer. And,  as  you  all  know,  although  her  mother 
promised  to  send  her  the  day  before  school  opened, 
she  did  not  arrive.  I  have  since  learned  that  she  kept 
her  at  home  because  the  baby  was  sick,  but  intends 
to  send  her  this  Saturday." 

Marjorie's  eyes  shone.  Their  plan  was  to  succeed 
after  all!  Ruth  had  been  mistaken;  when  Frieda 
began  to  develop  and  make  progress,  perhaps  Ruth 
would  be  sorry  for  the  distrustful  attitude  she  had 
taken !  And  think  what  it  would  mean  to  Frieda — a 
girl  of  her  own  age!  Now  she  would  have  pretty 
clothes  that  the  Scouts  would  buy  her,  live  in  a  lovely 
home  in  the  village,  where  the  Scouts  would  pay  her 
board,  and  go  to  the  public  school.  She  would  meet 
nice  girls,  develop  friendships,  and  have  the  oppor- 
tunity to  study  and  prepare  herself  to  make  some- 
thing worth  while  of  her  life.  She  would  be  just 


38  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

like  Cinderella — and  the  Scouts  would  be  the  fairy 
godmother ! 

"But  where  shall  we  get  the  money,  Captain  ?"  de- 
manded Ruth.  She  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  her 
disapproval  of  the  project;  she  would  have  preferred 
to  direct  the  troop's  attention  to  earning  money  for 
the  following  summer's  outing. 

"That  is  what  we  must  talk  about  this  evening," 
replied  Miss  Phillips.  "But  in  the  meantime,  we 
have  twenty-six  dollars  in  the  treasury.  Mrs.  John- 
son, in  the  village,  tells  me  she  will  board  Frieda  for 
the  special  rate  of  six  dollars  a  week — she's  inter- 
ested in  her,  too,  and  would  like  to  help  us — so  what 
would  you  all  say  to  paying  twelve  dollars  in  advance 
for  board,  and  spending  the  other  fourteen  on  some 
clothing?" 

"Great !    Splendid !"  cried  the  girls. 

"But  how  about  our  Hallowe'en  party!"  pouted 
Ruth.  "Aren't  we  going  to  have  any  more  good 
times  ourselves?"  Then,  noticing  the  spirit  of  an- 
tagonism that  her  remark  had  aroused,  she  hastened 
to  add,  "I  wouldn't  mind  if  I  thought  Frieda  would 
appreciate  it.  But  I'll  bet  she  won't!  She'll  steal 
again,  just  like  she  did  at  camp!" 

Miss  Phillips  held  up  her  hand  to  caution  Ruth  not 
to  go  any  farther ;  and  Frances  Wright,  who,  next  to 
Marjorie,  had  been  most  interested  in  the  girl  from 
the  start,  protested  vehemently. 


GOOD  TURN  39 

"Ruth!"  she  cried,  disdainfully,  "you  surely  don't 
think  that!" 

"Yes,  she  does!"  exclaimed  Marjorie  impulsively. 
"She  doesn't  trust " 

"Girls !"  remonstrated  the  Captain,  rising  from  the 
chair  to  take  command  of  the  situation.  "We  will 
have  no  more  discussion  about  the  matter.  We  shall 
simply  vote  on  the  motion — if  someone  will  be  kind 
enough  to  make  one — to  spend  the  twenty-six  dol- 
lars that  we  have  in  the  treasury  on  board  and  cloth- 
ing for  Frieda  Hammer." 

The  motion  was  made  and  carried  by  an  over- 
whelming majority,  and  Miss  Phillips  asked  Frances 
Wright  to  accompany  her  to  the  city  the  following 
Saturday  to  meet  the  girl  when  she  should  arrive. 

"Now  we  must  discuss  other  ways  to  raise 
money,"  continued  the  Captain.  "Several  of  the 
girls  have  suggested  a  Christmas  bazaar.  This  I 
consider  a  splendid  plan,  so  if  you  are  all  in  favor  of 
it,  we  shall  start  in  making  things  for  it  immediately. 
But,  of  course,  we  cannot  hold  that  until  December, 
and  we  shall  need  money  before  then.  So  has  any- 
one else  a  proposal  ?" 

The  resourceful  Marjorie  arose  to  her  feet.  After 
giving  the  customary  salute,  she  began : 

"The  other  day,  when  I  was  out  in  my  canoe  on 
the  lake,  it  occurred  to  me  how  lovely  it  must  be 
there  at  night.  I  kept  wishing  we  could  have  some 
sort  of  party  on  the  water,  and  then  the  idea  came 


40  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

to  me  to  have  a  sort  of  Japanese  fete,  and  charge 
admission.  We  could  hire  Japanese  lanterns,  and 
put  up  two  or  three  attractive  booths  to  sell  refresh- 
ments, and  I  could  sell  rides  in  my  canoe — maybe 
we  could  hire  two  or  three  extra  boats  for  the  occa- 
sion— and  maybe  tell  fortunes,  or  something  like 
that.  Do  you  suppose,"  she  concluded,  "that  we 
could  get  Miss  Allen's  permission?" 

Miss  Phillips  did  not  need  to  ask  for  an  expres- 
sion of  opinion;  she  could  read  from  the  Scouts' 
faces  their  approval  of  the  plan.  As  a  mere  matter 
of  form,  she  called  for  a  vote  upon  the  question,  and 
when  the  suggestion  was  unanimously  adopted,  a 
date  was  selected,  and  Marjorie  herself  appointed 
chairman  of  the  committee. 

"And  now,"  said  the  Captain,  "I  have  a  lovely  in- 
vitation for  you !" 

"The  Boy  Scouts?"  cried  Ruth,  joyfully. 

"Not  this  time,  Ruth.  No — it's  from  Miss  Mar- 
tin's school.  They  want  us  to  visit  them,  I  think  to 
give  a  Scout  demonstration.  And  then,  I  believe, 
they  intend  to  start  a  rival  troop." 

"I  would  love  to  see  some  other  Girl  Scouts,"  said 
Edith  Evans.  "Won't  it  be  great  to  have  a  sister 
troop !" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  agreed  the  Captain.  "But  I  am 
not  willing  to  take  fifteen  Scouts — not  even  two  pa- 
trols, you  know — over  there  to  demonstrate.  I  asked 
Miss  Watson,  the  gym  teacher  at  Miss  Martin's,  to 


GOOD  TURN  41 

postpone  the  invitation  until  after  the  first  of  No- 
vember, when  our  reports  come  out  and  the  hockey 
team  is  chosen.  That  will  give  us  an  opportunity  to 
fill  up  our  troop;  indeed,  I  hope  we  have  at  least 
three,  and  maybe  four  full  patrols !" 

"Do  you  really  expect  so  many  freshmen  to  meet 
the  requirements,  Captain  ?"  asked  Frances. 

"No,  not  only  freshmen.  I  think  some  more  upper 
classmen  will  qualify — girls  like  Mae  Van  Horn,  for 
instance,  who  just  fell  a  trifle  short  last  year." 

"Would  it  be  possible,  Captain,"  suggested  Mar- 
jorie,  shyly,  tfto  make  Frieda  a  Girl  Scout  ?  Couldn't 
she  be  an  honorary  member,  or  something?" 

But  Miss  Phillips  wisely  shook  her  head. 

"No ;  in  one  respect,  Ruth  was  right — we  must  not 
expect  a  lot  from  her  at  first.  Frieda  Hammer  is  a 
girl  who  has  never  been  taught  right  from  wrong, 
and  we  must  go  very  slowly.  If  she  proves  worthy, 
perhaps  we  can  take  her  in  later,  although  I  would 
prefer  to  let  her  wait  till  she  passes  our  school  ex- 
aminations, and  has  a  chance  to  enter  just  like  any 
other  girl.  We  all  appreciate  things  we  have  to  work 
hard  for,  you  know !" 

"We  certainly  do!"  agreed  Marjorie,  emphatic- 
ally ;  and  Ruth,  sensitive  to  the  reference,  could  not 
control  the  flush  that  spread  over  her  face. 

"And  now  for  Scouting  itself,"  concluded  the 
Captain;  "for  we  must  not  neglect  that.  We  shall 
probably  go  for  a  hike  Saturday  a  week,  if  it  is  clear, 


42  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

and  then  we  are  going  to  study  definitely  for  our 
first-class  test.  I  made  a  big  mistake  when  I  thought 
you  could  pass  it  in  two  weeks'  time  at  camp.  But 
then  I  was  going  by  the  old  hand-book,  and  in  the 
new  one  it  is  much  more  difficult ;  the  signalling  alone 
will  probably  require  two  months'  study.  I  am  go- 
ing to  ask  Mr.  Remington,  the  Boy  Scoutmaster,  to 
give  the  final  test  in  the  semaphore  and  Morse  code, 
and  every  other  requirement  must  be  passed  with  the 
same  thoroughness.  If  my  dream  comes  true,  the 
first  class  Scouts  of  Pansy  troop  will  be  able  to  go 
anywhere — even  to  National  Headquarters — and 
pass  the  stiffest  examination  the  Director  herself 
could  give,  bringing  credit  to  Pansy  troop !" 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Ruth.  "I  sort  of  miscalcu- 
lated at  camp,  didn't  I?" 

The  girls  laughed  at  the  recollection  of  the  episode 
of  kidnapping  Frieda's  sister. 

"Frieda  will  never  forgive  me  for  that,"  she 
added;  "I  guess  I  can  never  hope  to  become  her 
friend!" 

"I  guess  you  don't  care  much!"  remarked  Ethel, 
with  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  her  tone. 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  it's  going  to  do  any  good !" 
she  flashed  back.  "You  mark  my  words — Frieda 
Hammer  can't  be  trusted !" 

"Girls !"  expostulated  Miss  Phillips  again.  "Come 
to  order!  We  shall  now  review  our  semaphore  al- 
phabet. Lineup!  Troop,  attention!  Right  dress!" 


GOOD  TURN  43 

When  the  meeting  was  over,  Marjorie  and  Lily 
sauntered  slowly  back  to  their  room. 

"I  was  so  happy  about  Frieda,"  said  Marjorie,  a 
shade  of  discouragement  creeping  into  her  voice,  "till 
Ruth  threw  such  cold  water  on  the  project.  Do  you 
believe  it  will  work  out  all  right,  Lil  ?" 

"I  believe  everything  will  work  out  all  right,"  re- 
plied the  other  girl  optimistically.  "After  you  won 
the  canoe,  and  I  was  elected  class  president  against 
Ruth,  I  feel  as  if  nothing  we  ever  really  want  will 
fall  through.  So  please  don't  worry,  Marj !" 

And  Marjorie  decided  that  she  would  adopt  Lily's 
cheerful  view  of  the  situation — and  wait.  In  a  little 
over  a  week,  Frieda  would  arrive;  from  the  very 
beginning  Marjorie  would  adopt  so  friendly  an  at- 
titude that  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  girl  to 
treat  her  indifferently. 

"For  kindness  always  wins  in  the  end,"  she 
thought,  as  she  turned  out  the  pretty  boudoir  lamp 
beside  her  bed. 


44  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER   V 

CHECK-MATED 

EVER  since  Lily  Andrews  had  taken  up  her  duties 
as  sophomore  president  she  found  a  noticeable 
change  in  the  attitude  of  certain  members  of  the  class 
towards  her.  Foremost  among  this  group  were  Ruth 
Henry  and  Evelyn  Hopkins,  who  boasted  proudly 
among  the  other  girls  of  their  friendship  with  the 
president.  If  Ruth  harbored  any  resentment  against 
her  successful  rival,  she  carefully  concealed  it;  and 
most  of  her  classmates  spoke  of  her  as  Lily  Andrews' 
"right-hand  man." 

Without  a  doubt,  Ruth  was  a  great  help  to  the  new 
officer.  Marjorie,  always  more  interested  in  athletics 
and  Scout  affairs,  paid  only  a  half-hearted  attention 
to  Lily's  official  problems;  and  Doris  Sands  was 
really  tired  out  and  needed  a  rest.  So,  in  sheer  des- 
peration, Lily  sought  Ruth,  and  always  found  her 
interested  and  helpful. 

One  afternoon  when  Marjorie  was  out  walking 
with  Alice  Endicott,  Lily,  with  notebook  and  pencil 
in  hand,  hurried  over  to  Ruth's  room.  She  found  her 


GOOD  TURN  45 

sitting  languidly  beside  her  wicker  tea-table,  playing 
with  the  tea-ball,  and  carrying  on  a  disconcerted  con- 
versation with  Evelyn. 

"How  many  times  do  I  have  to  tell  you  not  to 
knock,  Lily  Andrews!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  thought 
you  knew  us  well  enough  by  this  time " 

Lily  laughed,  nevertheless  highly  flattered.  It  is 
always  more  or  less  of  a  triumph  to  conquer  a  dis- 
like, and  Lily  felt  genuinely  pleased  at  the  change  in 
Ruth's  attitude  toward  her. 

"You're  awfully  good "  she  began. 

"Not  at  all!"  protested  Ruth.  "But  Evelyn  and 
I  are  always  at  home  to  our  friends !"  Then,  notic- 
ing the  notebook,  "What's  the  important  business 
now,  Lil?" 

"Oh,  it's  class  stuff  again!  I  want  your  advice, 
Ruth." 

"It's  yours  for  the  asking!"  replied  the  hostess, 
magnanimously,  well  pleased  to  be  so  obviously 
within  the  "inner  circle." 

"You  really  ought  to  be  class  president,  Ruth. 
You  do  more  work  than  I  do,  and  don't  get  the 
credit." 

"I  don't  want  credit,"  lied  Ruth;  "all  I  want  is 
our  class's  good." 

"Yes,  I  know.  Well,  here  is  my  present  trouble. 
You  know,  every  single  class  since  the  foundation  of 
the  school  has  succeeded  in  holding  their  meeting  in 
spite  of  the  sophomores'  attempt  at  interference. 


46  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

Why  can't  we  break  the  spell  ?  What  could  we  pos- 
sibly do?" 

Ruth  sat  up  straight  in  her  chair  and  half  closed 
her  eyes,  lost  in  contemplation. 

"We  will  break  the  spell !"  she  announced,  slowly. 
"I  think  I  have  a  new  idea!" 

"Ruth,  you  are  so  clever !"  exclaimed  Evelyn,  who 
could  not  keep  out  of  the  conversation.  "I  almost 
believe  you  can  do  it !" 

"Tell  us  what  your  plan  is!"  begged  Lily,  impa- 
tient with  even  a  moment's  unnecessary  delay. 

"The  private  detective  system — and  by  that  I 
mean  to  have  each  girl  in  our  class  responsible  for 
one  or  two  freshmen,  and  know  where  they  are  every 
minute  of  the  day.  In  that  way,  all  of  us  would 
really  be  on  guard  all  the  time !" 

"Wonderful !"  cried  Lily  enthusiastically.  "Would 
it  really  be  possible  to  do  it  ?" 

"I  don't  see  why  not;  the  struggle  lasts  only  six 
weeks — nearly  two  are  gone  already.  And  if  every- 
body will  work " 

"That's  great,  Ruth,"  interrupted  Lily,  deciding 
instantly  to  adopt  the  plan ;  "I'll  post  a  notice  for  a 
meeting  this  very  evening,  and  we'll  put  it  up  to  the 
class.  Then,  if  everybody  approves  of  the  scheme,  I 
want  you  to  be  chairman  of  the  Vigilance  Committee 
— the  leader,  you  know,  to  whom  the  girls  would  re- 
port any  suspicions." 

Ruth's  heart  gave  a  bound  of  delight :  the  appoint- 


GOOD  TURN  47 

ment  was  just  what  she  desired.  With  a  little  tact 
and  diplomacy,  she  could  make  Lily  a  mere  figure- 
head, and  herself  the  power  behind  the  throne;  in 
this  manner  she  could  pave  the  way  for  her  own 
election  to  the  presidency  for  junior  year. 

But  she  did  not  dare  to  betray  to  Lily  the  fact  that 
she  was  eager  for  the  office.  She  even  hesitated  a 
moment  before  she  accepted. 

"Of  course  it  will  mean  an  awful  lot  of  work,  but 
if  you  really  think  I  am  capable,  Lily,  you  know  I'd 
do  anything  for  the  sake  of  the  class." 

"Of  course  you're  capable,"  reassured  the  other, 
"and  you  must  take  it.  It  will  remove  a  big  weight 
from  my  mind,  too,  if  you  do." 

The  girls  discussed  the  matter  in  detail,  while 
Evelyn  made  tea.  Then,  refreshed  and  encouraged, 
Lily  returned  to  her  own  room. 

At  the  class  meeting  that  evening,  when  Lily  an- 
nounced that  Ruth  Henry  was  chairman  of  the  Vigi- 
lance Committee,  the  general  wave  of  surprise  that 
spread  over  the  room  was  apparent.  For  most  of 
the  girls  remembered  how  ungraciously  the  latter  had 
treated  her  the  previous  year,  before  there  was  any 
talk  of  Lily's  rising  to  prominence.  But  the  act  only 
served  to  enhance  the  admiration  the  girls  felt  for 
their  president;  they  realized  anew  how  magnani- 
mous she  was,  and  how  much  she  valued  the  good  of 
the  class. 

Ruth  presented  her  plan  so  effectively  that  it  was 


48  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

immediately  approved  and  adopted.  Each  girl  was 
allowed  to  select  her  own  freshman,  for,  as  Ruth  re- 
marked, if  the  sophomores  chose  their  particular 
friends  there  would  be  less  cause  for  suspicion.  She 
herself  picked  out  two  charges — Esther  Taylor  and 
Florence  Evans — both  girls  of  unusual  energy.  Mar- 
jorie  Wilkinson  naturally  selected  Alice  Endicott. 
Each  sophomore  was  equipped  with  a  whistle  which 
she  was  instructed  to  blow  if  necessary,  unless  she 
happened  to  be  inside  of  the  dormitory  building. 
And  since,  according  to  Miss  Allen's  rules,  it  was 
forbidden  to  hold  the  meeting  before  the  rising  bell 
in  the  morning,  or  after  the  supper  bell  in  the  eve- 
ning, the  difficulty  of  the  problem  was  reduced  fifty 
per  cent. 

The  freshmen,  in  the  meantime,  were  striving  to 
formulate  some  definite  plan  for  concerted  action. 
But  with  no  officers  to  assume  responsibility  or  give 
directions,  and  with  no  opportunity  for  general  dis- 
cussion, there  seemed  to  be  little  hope  of  their  get- 
ting together.  However,  as  in  all  cases  heretofore, 
they  relied  upon  the  resourcefulness  and  hesitance  of 
the  junior  president. 

The  holder  of  that  office  was  Ethel  Todd,  one  of 
the  very  cleverest  of  the  Girl  Scouts.  Exception- 
ally capable,  she  usually  accomplished  what  she  set 
out  to  do.  When  she  learned  that  Ruth  Henry  was 
chairman  of  the  Vigilance  Committee  she  was  more 
determined  than  ever  to  check-mate  any  plans  the 


GOOD  TURN  49 

other  might  make.  Taking  matters  in  her  own 
hands,  she  arranged  for  a  thorough  consultation  with 
Florence  Evans  and  Mildred  Cavin,  whom  she  con- 
sidered class  leaders. 

"Ruth  Henry  has  some  clever  scheme,"  she  in- 
formed them,  "you  can  just  depend  on  that.  But  I 
mean  to  beat  her,  no  matter  how  perfect  her  system 
is,"  she  added.  She  had  never  forgiven  Ruth  for 
the  contemptible  manner  in  which  she  had  treated 
Marjorie  the  previous  year,  and  she  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  to  do  everything  in  her  power  to  get 
even. 

So  she  set  about  to  discover  the  sophomore's  plan, 
and  to  outwit  the  girls  if  she  could.  She  watched 
Ruth's  movements  closely,  and  saw  her  follow 
Esther  Taylor  to  the  library  the  following  afternoon, 
remain  there  as  long  as  the  freshman  did,  and  come 
out  again  a  few  seconds  afterward,  dogging  her 
footsteps  to  the  hockey  field.  This  same  occurrence 
took  place  the  day  after;  at  the  same  time  she  per- 
ceived that  Lily  Andrews  seemed  always  close  on 
the  trail  of  Mildred  Cavin,  and  Marjorie  of  Alice 
Endicott.  Ethel  retired  to  her  own  room  to  think 
over  this  in  quiet. 

What  could  it  all  mean?  Did  Ruth  and  Lily  and 
Marjorie  think  that  the  other  freshmen  could  not 
hold  a  meeting  without  these  few  girls — that  they, 
leaders  though  they  were,  were  indispensible  ?  She 
glanced  out  of  the  window  and  saw  Daisy  Gravers 


50  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

walking  down  the  path  to  the  gate;  a  few  steps  be- 
hind her  came  Doris  Sands,  apparently  unconcerned 
about  things  in  general,  but  every  now  and  then 
glancing  at  Daisy,  and  then  looking  hastily  toward 
the  dormitory.  Then,  in  a  flash,  the  system  was  dis- 
closed to  the  junior  President ! 

"PRIVATE  DETECTIVE  SYSTEM !"  she  ex- 
claimed aloud,  jumping  suddenly  to  her  feet.  "Each 
freshman  shadowed  by  a  soph !" 

She  hit  upon  a  brilliant,  yet  simple,  plan.  She 
would  beat  Ruth  by  cleanliness!  Accordingly,  she 
wrote  forty  notes  to  forty  freshmen,  telling  them  to 
wear  kimonas,  carry  soap  and  towels,  and  be  in  the 
shower-bath  compartment  on  the  third  floor  at  one 
minute  after  seven  the  following  day.  If  the  sopho- 
mores were  up  early  enough  to  notice  the  fresh- 
men's absences,  they  would  not  suspect  anything  un- 
usual in  such  a  proceeding. 

The  next  morning  was  a  dark  one,  and,  much  to 
her  annoyance,  Ruth  overslept  by  ten  minutes. 
Jumping  up  suddenly,  she  hastily  put  on  her  bath- 
robe, and,  passing  along  the  hall  by  way  of  Esther 
Taylor's  and  Florence  Evans'  rooms,  made  her  way 
toward  the  shower.  She  did  not  hear  any  stir  as  she 
went  by  the  freshmen's  doors,  but  being  late,  she 
hurried  on.  A  moment  later,  she  reached  the 
shower-bath  compartment. 

As  she  was  just  about  to  enter,  the  swinging  door 
was  abruptly  flung  open,  and  a  noisy  crowd  of  girls, 


GOOD  TURN  51 

in  kimonas  and  bath-robes,  almost  knocked  her  over. 
They  were  freshmen,  and  they  were  all  tremendously 
happy  over  something;  in  a  flash,  she  read  the  news 
of  their  victory.  She  did  not  even  need  Mildred 
Gavin's  announcement:  "Florence  Evans  is  fresh- 
man president!"  to  confirm  her  fears. 

The  hot  blood  rushed  to  Ruth's  face  as  she  caught 
sight  of  Ethel  Todd's  triumphantly  gleaming  eyes. 
Dejected,  defeated,  she  disappeared  into  the  shower 
to  drown  her  disappointment  in  cold  water. 

For,  in  her  own  imagination,  she  saw  the  junior 
presidency  fading  from  her  grasp ! 


52  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    ARRIVAL    OF    FRIEDA 

MARJORIE  and  Lily  were  seated  in  the  old-fash- 
ioned, comfortably  furnished  parlor  in  the  home  of 
Mrs.  Johnson,  that  motherly  woman  who,  through 
her  interest  in  both  the  Girl  Scouts  and  their  ward, 
had  promised  to  board  Frieda  for  six  dollars  a  week. 
The  girls  had  come  down  to  see  her  to  venture  a 
little  plan  of  theirs,  and  Marjorie  was  relieved  to 
find  her  so  easy  to  become  acquainted  with.  Mrs. 
Johnson  was  just  the  sort  of  person — placid,  sym- 
pathetic, jolly — that  any  normal  girl  would  love. 
This  fact,  thought  Marjorie,  ought  to  help  them  a 
great  deal  in  their  success  with  Frieda. 

"You  see,"  explained  Marjorie,  idly  running  her 
finger  along  the  surface  of  the  horse-hair  sofa  on 
which  she  was  seated,  "we  want  to  make  Frieda  en- 
joy herself  from  the  very  beginning.  Some  of  the 
freshmen  at  Miss  Allen's  were  pretty  homesick  at 
first,  and  we  want  to  avoid  all  that  with  her.  For 
she  really  belongs  to  us,  you  know ;  we're  responsible 
for  her!" 


GOOD  TURN  53 

"Yes,  yes,"  agreed  Mrs.  Johnson,  still  in  doubt  re- 
garding the  purpose  of  the  girl's  remarks.  Was 
Marjorie  afraid  that  she,  Mrs.  Johnson,  would  not 
treat  her  kindly? 

"But  what ?"  she  began. 

"What  I  am  trying  to  tell  you  about,"  laughed 
Marjorie,  interrupting  her,  "is  that,  provided  you 
are  willing,  we  want  to  have  a  little  surprise  party 
here  for  her  when  she  arrives.  We  thought  we'd 
order  cake  and  ice-cream,  and  have  everybody  hide 
somewhere  in  the  house.  Then,  when  Miss  Phillips 
and  Frances  and  Frieda  come  in,  you  suggest  that  she 
go  to  her  room,  and  take  off  her  things,  and  come 
down  again. 

"While  she's  upstairs,  we'll  come  out  of  our  hid- 
ing-places and  play  the  piano,  and  sing  her  a  welcome 
song.  Ethel  Todd,  one  of  the  Scouts,  has  written  a 
dandy — a  parody  on  'Jingle  Bells' !" 

Mrs.  Johnson  beamed  happily. 

"Indeed,  I  do  heartily  approve  of  your  plan,  my 
dear,"  she  said.  "Now  won't  you  and  your  friend" 
— she  rose  from  her  seat — "come  up  to  see  her 
room?  I  wish  I  could  have  put  her  on  the  second 
floor,  but  you  know  my  father  and  mother  live  with, 
me,  and  they  demand  the  first  consideration." 

Mrs.  Johnson  led  the  way  up  two  flights  of  stairs 
and  into  a  little  room  with  a  gabled  roof.  The  room 
itself,  the  curtains,  the  rag  rug,  the  bed,  and  the  old 
fashioned  bureau,  were  very  neat  and  clean,  but  the 


54  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

whole  effect  of  the  furnishing  was  too  bare  to  allow 
the  room  to  be  regarded  as  really  attractive.  Mar- 
jorie  wondered  what  it  would  seem  like  to  Frieda, 
unused  as  she  was  to  luxury  of  any  sort. 

"It's  awfully  nice,"  she  said  with  sincerity.  "I'm 
sure  Frieda  will  like  it." 

"I  hope  she  does!"  sighed  Mrs.  Johnson;  "but 
you  never  can  tell  about  young  people  these  days." 

When  Saturday  finally  came,  there  was  great  ex- 
citement among  the  members  of  the  Girl  Scout  troop. 
They  felt  like  people  who  are  about  to  adopt  a  child, 
so  interested  were  they  in  the  girl's  welfare.  Ruth 
alone  was  indifferent.  She  refused  to  believe  that 
any  good  would  come  of  the  whole  project.  Some 
of  the  Scouts  thought  she  harbored  resentment 
against  Frieda  for  disclosing  her  deceit  in  borrow- 
ing the  baby  at  camp.  Ethel  Todd,  always  suspi- 
cious of  Ruth,  thought  that  she  naturally  was  hostile 
toward  any  scheme  in  which  Marjorie  was  deeply 
interested. 

But  Ruth's  opposition  in  reality  was  caused  by 
neither  of  these  things;  for  once  her  reasons  were 
impersonal.  She  really  doubted  Frieda's  ability  to 
appreciate  what  was  being  done  for  her,  and  though 
she  could  not  exactly  explain  why,  she  felt  positive 
that  the  girl  would  betray  the  troop's  confidence,  and 
make  them  wish  that  they  had  never  considered  the 
undertaking. 

A  dull,  dreary  rain  on  Saturday  morning  seemed 


GOOD  TURN  55 

to  presage  failure  for  the  girls'  plans  at  the  very 
start.  It  was  always  dismal,  Marjorie  thought,  to 
go  anywhere  in  the  rain,  but  especially  to  a  new 
town.  Frieda  would  receive  a  bad  impression  of 
the  place  from  the  beginning,  and,  if  she  had  any 
tendency  toward  homesickness,  the  inclemency  of 
the  weather  would  only  help  to  intensify  it. 

"I  certainly  am  glad  we  planned  this  party,  Lil," 
she  observed,  as  the  girls  were  donning  their  Scout 
uniforms.  "That  will  probably  be  the  only  bright 
spot  in  the  day  for  Frieda." 

"You  forget,"  said  Lily  reprovingly,  "that  Frieda 
is  to  be  met  by  our  Captain !" 

"That's  right,  Lil!     She's  lucky!" 

She  looked  dreamily  out  of  the  window,  not  seeing 
the  rain,  but  thinking  of  the  first  time  Miss  Phillips 
had  talked  with  her.  From  the  very  start  she  had 
meant  more  to  Marjorie  than  any  of  the  sorority 
girls. 

"And  yet,"  she  added  wistfully,  "Miss  Phillips 
didn't  seem  able  to  make  much  impression  upon 
either  Frieda  or  her  mother  before.  Oh,  I  do  hope 
Ruth  is  mistaken!" 

At  half-past  two,  fourteen  Girl  Scouts,  all  in  uni- 
form, were  concealed  on  the  first  floor  of  Mrs.  John- 
son's house.  Two  of  the  girls  were  in  the  cellar- 
way,  three  in  the  roomy  kitchen,  two  under  the  din- 
ing-room table,  four  behind  chairs  and  the  sofa  in 
the  living-room,  one  underneath  the  sofa,  and  two 


56  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

in  the  dining-room  closet.  While  they  tried  not  to 
become  hilarious,  for  they  expected  their  guests  at 
any  moment  now,  suppressed  whispers  and  giggles 
were  heard  from  time  to  time  from  all  parts  of  the 
downstairs. 

Mrs.  Johnson,  apparently  the  only  person  in  the 
room,  sat  in  a  chair  beside  the  table,  knitting  a  white 
sweater  for  Frieda.  Marjorie,  sprawled  at  full 
length  under  the  sofa,  was  making  vain  attempts  to 
keep  up  a  conversation  with  Lily  and  Ethel,  who 
were  behind  it. 

Suddenly  a  step  was  heard  on  the  porch,  and  in- 
stantly a  hush  fell  upon  the  room.  The  girls  in  the 
dining-room  and  kitchen  became  silent,  too,  as  Mrs. 
Johnson  answered  the  bell.  But  the  Scouts'  hearts 
fell  as  they  distinguished  the  deep  tones  of  a  mas- 
culine voice. 

"Michael  Doyle,  the  plumber,  told  me  to  come  here 
and  look  at  the  kitchen  sink,"  they  heard.  "I'm  his 
helper.  Didn't  you  send  for  someone,  Mrs.  John- 
son?" 

"Why,  to  be  sure !"  replied  their  hostess  genially, 
opening  the  door  to  admit  the  man.  The  girls  re- 
mained in  their  hiding  places,  and  only  with  great 
effort  suppressed  their  desire  to  giggle.  Mrs.  John- 
son led  the  way  to  the  kitchen,  where  she  explained 
the  cause  of  the  difficulty  to  the  man. 

In  the  meantime,  more  steps  were  heard  outside ; 
the  hearts  of  the  concealed  girls  beat  all  the  more 


GOOD  TURN  57 

wildly  with  excitement  because  of  the  false  alarm 
they  had  just  experienced. 

It  was  evident,  after  a  moment  or  two  of  silence, 
that  Mrs.  Johnson  had  not  heard  the  bell.  Prob- 
ably she  had  gone  down  the  cellar  with  the  plumber. 
Marjorie  was  debating  in  her  own  mind  whether 
she  ought  not  to  creep  out  of  her  hiding  place  and 
open  the  door,  for  the  day  was  too  disagreeable  to 
keep  anyone  outside  longer  than  necessary,  when 
Miss  Phillips  tried  the  knob,  and,  finding  that  it 
turned,  she  opened  the  door  and  walked  in.  Frieda 
followed,  and  then  Frances. 

Frieda  Hammer,  a  girl  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  was 
dressed  in  an  old-fashioned  woolen  suit  of  a  style  of 
nearly  ten  years  back.  Its  bedraggled,  uneven  skirt 
reached  down  to  her  ankles,  while  the  sleeves  of  the 
coat  came  far  short  of  her  wrists.  Her  hair  was 
arranged  in  an  exaggerated  fashion,  with  huge  ear- 
puffs,  according  to  her  idea  of  the  latest  mode ;  and 
on  her  head  was  a  dirty  straw  hat,  trimmed  with  big 
artificial  roses.  She  slouched  into  the  room,  drag- 
ging her  muddy  feet  over  the  carpet,  and  threw  her- 
self into  Mrs.  Johnson's  chair. 

She  glanced  around  the  room  with  a  look  of  the 
utmost  disdain ;  then  closed  her  jaw  tightly,  causing 
her  lower  lip  to  protrude,  as  is  often  the  habit  with 
persons  of  sullen  dispositions.  Marjorie  caught 
sight  of  her  attitude  and  could  hardly  repress  a  sigh 
of  dismay;  then  she  espied  Frances,  looking  ner- 


58  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

vous  and  unhappy,  and  her  last  hope  vanished.  Ruth 
must  be  right  after  all ! 

Miss  Phillips  sank  into  a  chair  opposite  to  Frieda, 
as  if  she  were  both  mentally  and  physically  ex- 
hausted. Then,  breaking  the  silence  at  last,  she  re- 
marked, in  a  tone  which  she  tried  to  make  pleasant, 

"It's  nice  to  be  home,  isn't  it?" 

But  she  received  no  reply  from  the  girl.  Her  sul- 
len expression  never  changed ;  it  might  seem  that  she 
had  not  heard  Miss  Phillips'  remark. 

"I  guess  Mrs.  Johnson  will  be  here  in  a  minute," 
the  latter  added,  cheerfully.  "And  then  you  can  go 
to  your  room  and  wash." 

Still  there  was  no  word  or  sign  from  Freida. 
"She  certainly  isn't  very  appreciative,"  thought  Mar- 
jorie ;  "but  maybe  she's  homesick." 

"Would  you  like  to  try  on  your  new  things?" 
asked  Miss  Phillips. 

With  a  shrug  of  the  utmost  indifference,  Frieda 
replied, 

"I  don't  care!" 

"You're  not  a  bit  homesick,  are  you,  Frieda?" 
asked  Frances,  more,  it  would  seem,  as  if  to  make 
conversation,  than  because  she  really  thought  there 
was  any  likelihood  of  this  contingency. 

The  girl  regarded  her  questioner  scornfully. 

"For  them  folks?"  she  asked  sarcastically.  "I 
don't  want  to  see  them  no  more !" 

Frances  sighed — and  surrendered.    Ever  since  she 


GOOD  TURN  59 

and  her  Captain  had  met  the  country  girl,  she  had 
tried  to  be  friendly  and  sympathetic;  in  every  in- 
stance Frieda  had  repulsed  her  in  this  rude  manner. 
At  first  Frances  had  felt  hurt ;  with  a  great  deal  of 
effort  she  had  kept  back  the  tears  that  the  sharp 
replies  would  bring  dangerously  near  to  the  sur- 
face.    Then,  too,  the  girl  had  been  so  outrageously 
ungrateful ;  she  had  almost  made  a  scene  in  a  store 
where  Miss  Phillips  tried  to  buy  a  ten-dollar  dress, 
and  had  declared  that  she  would  never  wear  it !    Fi- 
nally, they  had  compromised  on  a  dark  skirt  and 
two  middy  blouses ;  but  Frieda  took  no  pains  to  hide 
her  resentment  at  the  cheapness  of  the  clothing. 
Many  of  her  remarks  had  been  absolutely  insulting ; 
and  now  Frances  was  utterly  disgusted  with  her,  and 
wished  that  Pansy  troop  had  taken  Ruth  Henry's 
advice,  and  let  Frieda  Hammer  stay  where  she  was 
till  the  end  of  her  days. 

Just  at  that  moment  Mrs.  Johnson  appeared  with  a 
great,  warm  smile  of  welcome  on  her  motherly  face. 
Surely,  Frances  thought,  this  would  have  melted  the 
hardest  heart.  She  and  Miss  Phillips  both  rose  at 
her  entrance ;  but  Frieda  sat  perfectly  still,  and  gave 
no  indication  that  she  was  aware  of  the  other's 
presence. 

"Stand  up,  Frieda,"  commanded  Miss  Phillips, 
pleasantly,  and  the  girl  shuffled  to  her  feet,  still  keep- 
ing her  eyes  fixed  on  the  piano. 

"Mrs.  Johnson,  this  is  Frieda  Hammer.     Frieda, 


BO  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

you  are  very  lucky  to  have  such  a  lovely  home,  and 
such  a  kind,  adopted  mother!  Won't  you  shake 
hands?" 

The  girl  thrust  out  her  hand  awkwardly,  still 
avoiding  the  eyes  of  the  older  woman.  "A  bad  sign" 
— thought  Mrs.  Johnson,  unconsciously — "she  never 
seems  to  look  anyone  in  the  eyes." 

"I  will  take  you  to  your  room,  my  dear,"  she  said. 
"Then  you  can  come  down  again  and  have  some- 
thing to  eat !" 

This  last  remark  was  made  with  a  side  glance  at 
Miss  Phillips,  and  a  twinkle  in  her  eye.  But  for 
once  the  latter  did  not  respond;  she  was  so  dis- 
couraged and  mentally  worn-out,  that  she  had  com- 
pletely forgotten  the  surprise  party. 

"Don't  want  nuthing!"  protested  Frieda,  rudely. 
And,  seizing  her  bag,  she  followed  Mrs.  Johnson  up 
the  stairs. 

As  soon  as  she  was  out  of  sight,  the  girls  began 
to  move  cautiously  from  their  hiding  places.  But 
suddenly  they  all  stood  perfectly  still,  arrested  by  the 
unbelievable  words  they  now  heard,  which  Frieda 
literally  shouted  at  kind  Mrs.  Johnson. 

"You  ain't  a-going  to  put  me  in  the  attic!"  Her 
bag  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  bang.  "I  didn't  come 
here  to  be  no  servant  girl !  I  knew  there  was  a  trick 
to  it!" 

"But,  my  dear •"     Mrs.  Johnson's  soft  voice 


GOOD  TURN  61 

pleaded  in  words  that  were  not  distinguishable  to  the 
girls  below. 

By  this  time  the  Scouts  were  gathered  about  the 
piano.  Frances  sank  on  the  sofa  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands,  and  Miss  Phillips  sighed  deeply.  Mar- 
jorie  looked  frightened,  as  if  something  dreadful 
were  about  to  happen.  Ruth  alone  was  unaffected ; 
she  had  been  right  from  the  first ! 

"Oh,  Ruth!"  cried  Frances,  forgetting  all  about 
the  surprise  party.  "If  we  only  had  taken  your  ad- 
vice !"  Her  voice  died  in  a  wail. 

"Sh !"  cautioned  Marjorie.  "Oh,  girls,  don't  let's 
give  up !  Please !  Let's  try  our  song.  Maybe  that 
— and  the  ice-cream " 

But  to  her  dismay,  she  received  no  word  of  en- 
couragement from  Miss  Phillips.  Their  Captain 
seemed  to  have  reached  the  lowest  depths  of  de- 
spair. 

Ethel,  however,  struck  the  chord,  and  the  girls 
chimed  in  weakly.  Then,  the  music,  strengthening 
their  hopes  as  it  progressed,  made  them  more  cheer- 
ful. Loudly,  they  brought  out  the  words  of  the 
chorus : 

"Frieda  dear,  Frieda  dear,  we're  so  glad  you're  here ! 
Frieda  dear,  Frieda  dear,  your  Scout  friends  are 
near " 

and  they  fairly  shouted  the  name  in  hope  of  evoking 
some  response. 


62  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

But  none  came;  in  five  minutes  Mrs.  Johnson  re- 
appeared with  wet  eyes.  She  felt  so  sorry  for  the 
Scouts. 

"It's  no  use,  girls,"  she  said,  sadly ;  "she  wouldn't 
come  down.  And  when  I  stepped  out  into  the  hall  to 
show  her  the  big  closet  for  her  wraps,  she  locked  the 
door  in  my  face !" 

Marjorie  burst  into  tears  and  hid  her  face  on  her 
room-mate's  shoulder.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  never 
been  more  disappointed,  even  when  she  failed  to 
make  the  Scout  troop. 

"Don't  cry,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson,  "she'll  come 
around  in  time.  Now  let's  have  the  party,  anyway. 
Suppose  you  change  it,  and  have  it  in  honor  of  me 
instead !  Day  after  to-morrow  is  my  birthday !" 

Marjorie  looked  up,  smiling  through  her  tears; 
and  the  girls  all  went  out  to  prepare  the  refresh- 
ments. Miss  Phillips  flashed  Mrs.  Johnson  a  grate- 
ful look ;  the  tact  and  good  sense  of  the  older  woman 
had  prevented  the  misfortune  from  becoming  a 
tragedy. 


GOOD  TURN  63 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    JAPANESE    FETE 

WHEN  the  disappointed  girls  left  Mrs.  Johnson's 
home  at  the  conclusion  of  the  surprise  party,  Mar- 
jorie  probably  looked  most  dejected  of  all.  She 
resolutely  avoided  Ruth's  society,  feeling  that  she 
could  not  bear  her  "I  told  you  so"  attitude ;  instead, 
she  sought  Lily,  who  seemed  to  understand  how  she 
felt.  The  girls  walked  in  silence;  Lily  knew  her 
room-mate  well  enough  now  to  realize  that  talking 
would  not  help,  and  she  discreetly  refrained  from 
intruding  upon  her  thoughts. 

When  they  reached  their  own  room,   Marjorie 

threw  herself  upon  the  bed  with  a  sob.     Lily  sat 

down  beside  her  and  put  her  arm  around  her  neck. 

"Marj,  please  don't  take  it  so  hard,"  she  begged. 

"It  won't  do  any  good." 

"Of  course  it  won't,"  Marjorie  replied,  brokenly. 
"But  I  cared  so  much  about  her  liking  us." 

"Well,  she  may,  yet.  Maybe  she  was  frightened 
— and  homesick.  Why  don't  you  go  down  to  see 
her  all  by  yourself?" 


64  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

The  suggestion  brought  Marjorie  a  ray  of  hope. 
She  dried  her  eyes,  and  squeezed  Lily's  hand  grate- 
fully. 

"I  certainly  will  do  that!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Thank  you  for  suggesting  it." 

The  following  day,  Sunday,  was  mild  and  beauti- 
ful ;  Marjorie  was  so  glad  to  see  that  the  rain  was 
gone,  and  so  hopeful  about  her  new  project,  that  she 
felt  quite  cheerful  again.  She  selected  one  of  her 
prettiest  dresses — a  pale  pink  voile — and  also  wore 
her  pink  silk  sweater  which  matched  it  so  perfectly. 

"I  won't  bother  with  a  hat,"  she  thought.  "It's  so 
warm,  and  it  will  seem  more  informal  without  one." 

It  was  only  a  few  minutes'  walk  to  Mrs.  Johnson's 
house,  and  she  reached  it  in  no  time.  With  trembling 
fingers,  she  rang  the  doorbell.  The  woman  herself 
answered  the  summons. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Johnson?"  she  said  pleas- 
antly. And  then,  just  as  if  she  were  paying  an  ordi- 
nary call  on  one  of  her  own  friends,  "Is  Frieda  in?" 

Mrs.  Johnson  smiled.  "Yes.  Do  come  in,  and  sit 
down — Marjorie — isn't  that  your  name  ?  Let's  talk 
a  little  first,  and  then  I'll  call  her." 

Marjorie  sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  sofa,  and 
leaned  forward  eagerly.  She  was  curious  for  news 
of  this  strange  girl,  who  so  baffled  everybody,  even 
Miss  Phillips  and  kind  Mrs.  Johnson. 

"She  isn't  civilized,  Marjorie,"  said  the  older 
woman.  "That's  exactly  what  it  is;  she  has  lived 


GOOD  TURN  65 

with  people  all  of  her  life  who  have  no  conception 
of  morals,  or  manners,  or  training,  and  she  simply 
acts  like  a  sort  of  mental  savage." 

"But  there  were  the  Brubakers — her  father 
worked  for  Mr.  Brubaker.  Don't  you  sup- 
pose  ?" 

"No;  I  don't  suppose  she  ever  saw  anything  of 
them.  She  is  used  to  wandering  about  just  as  she 
pleases.  Whatever  education  she  has  acquired  was 
probably  beaten  into  her  by  some  rough,  country 
schoolmaster." 

Marjorie  sighed  hopelessly. 

Mrs.  Johnson  read  her  thoughts.  "But  it  isn't 
hopeless,  my  dear,"  she  added  softly.  "Frieda  is  a 
human  being,  with  a  soul.  And  she  is  young,  too. 
If  we  can  keep  her  here,  away  from  her  parents'  bad 
influence,  we  may  yet  be  able  to  civilize  her.  Don't 
give  up  yet !" 

Marjorie  was  unconsciously  encouraged  by  these 
words.  But  she  wanted  more  definite  details  of  the 
girl's  behavior. 

"I  sent  her  supper  to  her  last  night,"  said  Mrs. 
Johnson,  "by  Annie,  the  girl  who  comes  in  to  help 
me  cook  and  wash  dishes.  She  said  that  Frieda 
opened  the  door  and  snarled  at  her  something  which 
she  could  not  understand,  except  the  word  'servant/ 
and  snatched  the  food  and  slammed  the  door  in  her 
face. 

"She  did  not  appear  at  breakfast,  but  I  heard  her 


66  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

go  out  for  a  walk;  and  when  she  came  back,  I  was 
home  from  church  and  had  dinner  on  the  table.  I 
asked  her  to  come  in,  and  she  followed  me  to  the 
dining-room. 

"When  I  introduced  her  to  father  and  mother,  and 
Mr.  Johnson,  she  paid  not  the  slightest  attention. 
Her  manners  at  the  table  were  terrible ;  she  evidently 
knew  nothing  about  the  use  of  a  knife  and  fork.  She 
ate  greedily,  as  if  she  were  very  hungry.  And,  by 
the  way,  I  think  the  girl  is  decidedly  undernourished. 

"Immediately  after  dinner  she  went  to  her  room 
again.  Now,  if  you  want  to  go  up  and  see  her,  you 
can  do  as  you  like.  You  know  the  facts." 

Marjorie  jumped  to  her  feet. 

"Oh,  I  will  go!"  she  cried  impulsively.  "There 
must  be  some  good  in  her." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Mrs.  Johnson,  "or  else  she  would 
not  have  consented  to  come  here." 

Marjorie  lowered  her  eyelids.  She  was  thinking 
of  that  remark  of  Ruth's:  that  Frieda  had  only 
seized  the  opportunity  as  another  chance  to  steal 
something.  But  she  resolutely  suppressed  the  idea; 
she  did  not  want  to  antagonize  Mrs.  Johnson  to  any 
greater  extent  against  the  girl. 

Up  the  steps  she  ran,  two  at  a  time,  so  that  she 
might  not  have  time  to  lose  courage  and  change  her 
mind.  She  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  room. 

"Who  is  it?"     This,  gruffly. 

"It's  Marjorie — Marjorie  Wilkinson!     The  girl 


GOOD  TURN  67 

with  the  canoe.  I  want  to  take  you  for  a  ride  in  my 
boat !"  This  last  proposal  was  made  on  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  moment. 

To  her  surprise,  she  heard  Frieda  step  forward 
and  unlock  the  door. 

"Whew !"  she  whistled,  gazing  at  Marjorie's  cos- 
tume in  open-mouthed  amazement.  "Some  dress!" 

Marjorie  smiled,  all  the  while  noting  with  pleasure 
the  changed  appearance  of  the  other.  For  Frieda 
wore  the  pleated  skirt  and  middy  that  Miss  Phillips 
had  bought  for  her  the  day  before,  and  her  hair  was 
arranged  quite  simply  in  the  style  Frances  Wright 
adopted,  without,  of  course,  the  artificial  ear-puffs. 

"How  nice  you  look,  Frieda!"  she  observed,  ad- 
miringly. 

"None  of  that!"  shouted  the  other  girl.  "This 
dress  makes  me  sick,  when  I  look  at  yours !" 

Marjorie  perceived  the  jealousy  in  Frieda's  eyes, 
and  hastened  to  change  the  subject. 

"Will  you  go  out  in  my  canoe  with  me  now?" 

"Nope!    Not  in  this  rig!" 

"But  Frieda "• 

"If  you  like  it  so  much,"  she  interrupted,  "you 
wear  it — and  give  me  yours !" 

Now  Marjorie's  pink  voile  was  one  of  her  favorite 
dresses,  and  she  had  counted  upon  wearing  it  in 
the  evenings  all  winter.  But  it  was  not  really  expen- 
sive, and  she  felt  that  she  would  gladly  part  with  it 
if  it  would  effect  a  reconciliation.  The  sweater 


68  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

would  be  a  weightier  matter ;  it  had  been  a  birthday 
gift  from  her  father.  Still,  she  would  sacrifice  that, 
too,  on  the  altar  of  this,  her  greatest  desire  of  the 
present  time. 

She  considered  making  a  bargain  and  exacting  a 
promise  of  friendship  from  the  girl,  but  this,  she 
felt,  might  antagonize  her.  So  she  merely  said, 

"All  right,  Frieda;  but  you  can't  wear  this  to 
school.  I'll  wear  yours  back  to  the  dormitory,  and 
then  I'll  put  on  another  dress  and  give  this  back  to 
you  again." 

Frieda  could  hardly  believe  her  ears  when  she 
saw  Marjorie  actually  take  off  her  sweater  and  start 
to  unfasten  her  dress.  Then  she  clapped  her  hands 
with  delight;  she  was  not  so  uncivilized  as  to  lack 
the  feminine  characteristic  of  love  of  pretty  clothing. 

The  change  was  effected  quickly,  and  the  girls 
walked  out  together  and  back  to  Miss  Allen's  where 
Marjorie  changed  the  dress;  and  then  to  the  lake. 
Marjorie  tried  to  talk  naturally,  but,  only  receiving 
monosyllables  as  replies,  finally  gave  up.  Untying 
the  canoe,  and  taking  the  paddle  from  the  bottom, 
she  bade  Frieda  get  in,  and  pushed  off. 

"Ain't  it  locked?"  asked  Frieda  in  astonishment. 

"No,  everybody  here  is  honest.  And  people  from 
outside  the  school  don't  know  about  it." 

They  drifted  on,  Marjorie  glancing  now  and  then 
at  her  companion,  who  sat  back  lazily — in  fact,  al- 
most contentedly — watching  the  sky  and  the  water, 


GOOD  TURN  69 

and  listening  to  the  rhythmic  dip  of  the  paddle.  A 
wave  of  great  happiness  surged  over  Marjorie;  she 
felt  that  she  had  progressed  farther  than  she  would 
have  dreamed  possible,  after  the  previous  day's  ex- 
perience. 

"Frieda,  will  you  come  to  our  Japanese  party  on 
Friday  evening,  if  I  give  you  a  ticket?"  asked  Mar- 
jorie, as  she  left  the  girl  at  Mrs.  Johnson's. 

"Maybe.    What's  it  going  to  be  like?" 

Marjorie  explained  the  plans,  but  she  saw  that 
they  conveyed  little  meaning  to  the  country  girl. 
Nevertheless,  she  resolved  to  send  her  a  ticket. 

It  happened  that  Friday  night,  which  was  the  last 
of  September,  was  clear  and  mild ;  the  stars  twinkled 
brightly  over  the  pretty  scene  at  the  edge  of  the  lake. 
Japanese  lanterns  were  strung  all  about  the  trees,  and 
the  tables,  containing  refreshments,  were  decorated 
with  gay  autumn  flowers.  Robed  in  Japanese  ki- 
monas,  with  long,  Oriental  pins  in  their  hair,  the  girls 
flitted  about  from  place  to  place,  welcoming  their 
guests  and  serving  the  dainty  food.  Out  on  the  lake, 
where  Marjorie  was  drifting  in  her  canoe,  a  victrola 
was  playing  soft  music. 

"The  boat  reminds  one  of  Venice,"  observed  Miss 
Allen,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  arrive.  "I  be- 
lieve I'd  enjoy  a  ride !" 

Lily,  to  whom  the  remark  was  directed,  whistled 
softly  to  her  room-mate.  Instantly,  the  girl  turned 
around,  and  made  for  the  shore. 


70  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Venice  or  Japan,  whichever  you  like,  Miss  Al- 
len," laughed  Lily,  "just  so  long  as  we  make  the 
money — for  the  cause  is  a  good  one,  you  know." 

Teachers,  girls  from  the  school,  people  from  the 
village, — a  larger  crowd  than  the  Scouts  had  dared 
to  hope  for — continued  to  arrive.  Charmed  by  the 
novel  idea,  they  bought  lavishly;  and  few  escaped 
without  first  visiting  the  fortune-telling  booth  pre- 
sided over  by  Miss  Phillips,  or  taking  a  ride  in  one 
of  the  row-boats,  or  in  Marjorie's  canoe. 

All  the  while,  however,  Marjorie  watched 
anxiously  for  the  appearance  of  Frieda.  Would  the 
girl  disappoint  her  ?  Marjorie  had  been  so  busy  dur- 
ing the  week  that  she  had  not  been  able  to  go  to 
see  her,  but  Mrs.  Johnson  had  told  Miss  Phillips 
that  Frieda  had  gone  regularly  to  school,  and  that 
her  teacher  reported  progress. 

Towards  nine  o'clock,  however,  just  as  Marjorie 
was  landing  her  canoe  with  two  of  the  teachers  who 
had  been  for  a  ride,  she  caught  sight  of  a  familiar 
pink  dress. 

Ruth,  who  had  joined  their  group  in  order  to  serve 
the  guests  with  ice-cream,  also  noticed  the  newcomer. 

"I  wonder  who  that  is!"  remarked  Ruth,  vainly 
attempting  to  identify  the  girl  in  the  dim  light. 
"She's  all  dolled  up,  too!" 

A  smile  spread  over  Marjorie's  face,  and  she 
waved  her  hand  in  welcome.  Frieda  advanced 
slowly,  as  if  she  were  not  sure  that  she  desired  to 


GOOD  TURN  71 

join  the  group.    When  she  was  within  half  a  dozen 
steps  of  them,  Ruth  recognized  her. 

"Frieda  Hammer!"  announced  Ruth,  in  a  stage 
whisper  that  was  perfectly  audible  to  the  girl  her- 
self. Then,  turning  to  the  others,  and  laughing,  she 
added,  "Hold  on  to  your  jewelry!  Nothing's 
safe " 

"Sh !"  cautioned  Marjorie,  in  the  deepest  distress. 
"Do  be  careful,  Ruth.  She'll  hear  you !" 

But  the  girl  had  evidently  overheard  the  remark, 
for  a  hard  look  came  into  her  eyes.  She  grit  her 
teeth  fiercely,  but  said  nothing;  then,  turning  swiftly 
around,  she  disappeared  among  the  trees. 

The  older  women,  sensing  a  scene,  sauntered 
away;  but  Ruth  stood  where  she  was,  smiling  defi- 
antly. Marjorie  might  have  cried,  had  she  not  been 
so  angry. 

"It's  all  your  fault !"  she  exclaimed ;  "Frieda  was 
just  getting  friendly,  and  here  you  had  to  spoil  it! 
Just  the  way  you  spoil  everything  I  try  to  do !" 

"Calm  yourself,  Marj !"  remarked  Ruth,  with  a 
superior  air.  "She  can't  feel  things  like  we  do !  Be- 
sides, she  is  a  thief,  so  why  not  call  her  one?" 

"Would  you  like  to  have  all  your  sins  thrown  in 
your  face?"  retorted  Marjorie.  "And  you 
know " 

"May  I  have  a  canoe  ride?"  said  a  pleasant  voice 
behind  them,  and  the  girls  turned  around  to  see  Mrs. 
Johnson,  with  her  husband,  standing  near  them. 


72  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Certainly,"  murmured  Marjorie,  ashamed  of  her 
loss  of  temper,  and  hoping  that  the  others  had  not 
heard  the  angry  worrds.  Ruth  turned  away,  and 
Marjorie  once  more  paddled  out  on  the  lake.  But 
the  evening  was  spoiled  for  her. 

For  Frieda  Hammer  had  again  been  antagonized ! 


GOOD  TURN  73 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  HOCKEY  TEAM 

"MARJORIE!" 

Lily  Andrews,  entering  the  room,  found  it  neces- 
sary to  speak  twice  before  she  aroused  the  attention 
of  her  room-mate,  who  was  seated  on  her  couch,  idly 
fingering  the  geometry  book  she  was  supposed  to  be 
studying,  and  looking  into  space.  Lily  could  not  re- 
member when  she  had  seen  her  look  so  dejected. 
But  she  had  a  piece  of  news  that  she  thought  would 
bring  a  smile  to  Marjorie's  lips. 

"Miss  Phillips  wants  you !" 

"She  does!    What  for?"    This,  eagerly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — hockey,  or  something,  I 
guess !" 

The  look  of  happiness  died  from  Marjorie's  face. 
She  seemed  tremendously  disappointed.  Lily  looked 
at  her  questioningly ;  heretofore,  the  girl  had  always 
been  delighted  to  be  summoned  by  her  favorite 
teacher,  for  no  matter  what  purpose. 

"What's  the  matter,  Marj  ?" 


74  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Nothing;  only  I  hoped  that  maybe  it  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  Scouts." 

"With  Scouts?" 

"Well — with  Frieda,  then !"  This  explanation  was 
given  rather  grudgingly,  and  with  a  greater  degree 
of  impatience  than  she  was  wont  to  use  with  Lily. 

"Didn't  you  tell  me  you  hoped  she'd  come  to  the 
Japanese  fete,  Marj  ?"  pursued  the  other. 

"Yes ;  and  she  did  come !" 

"But  I  didn't  see  her!" 

"Well,  then  you  missed  her,  that's  all."  Mar- 
jorie  arose  from  her  seat,  as  if  to  end  a  very  dis- 
tasteful conversation. 

But  Lily  was  not  through. 

"Marj,  is  it  true  that  you  gave  her  your  pink 
dress?" 

"Yes,  it  is." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad !"  cried  Lily,  in  the  most  relieved 
tone.  "Ruth  saw  Frieda  wearing  it — and  your 
sweater  besides — and  she  said  Frieda  stole  it !" 

"And  you  believed  that !"  Marjorie's  eyes  flashed 
in  anger.  "Oh,  Lil,  how  could  you?" 

"Well,  you  didn'  tell  me;  and  you  know  she  did 
steal  before.  So  Ruth  thought  probably " 

"Ruth  Henry  makes  me  sick!"  exclaimed  Mar- 
jorie,  now  tried  to  the  utmost.  "And  I'll  bet  she  got 
you  to  pump  me " 

"No,  not  exactly,"  replied  Lily,  a  little  ashamed 


GOOD  TURN  75 

of  her  questions;  "but  we  were  both  curious  to 
know." 

Marjorie  shook  her  head  with  disgust,  and  re- 
solved to  say  nothing  further. 

"Where  is  Miss  Phillips?"  she  asked. 

"In  her  office." 

"Thanks." 

Without  another  word,  she  left  the  room,  and 
went  straight  to  the  gymnasium. 

"Good  afternoon!"  said  Miss  Phillips,  pleasantly, 
as  Marjorie  entered  the  little  office;  "sit  down  here. 
I  want  to  talk  about  the  hockey  squad." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  murmured  Marjorie,  making  a 
great  effort  to  collect  her  thoughts  and  show  an 
interest  in  the  conversation. 

"And  I  consulted  you  first,"  continued  Miss  Phil- 
lips, "because  you  have  been  at  practice  most  faith- 
fully, and  played  the  best  of  anyone  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  term." 

The  compliment,  which  should  have  brought  hap- 
piness to  the  girl,  only  touched  her  lightly ;  she  hardly 
acknowledged  it  with  a  weak  smile.  Picking  up  a 
pencil,  she  ran  the  thick  end  along  the  edge  of  the 
desk,  as  if  she  were  giving  the  teacher  only  a  small 
part  of  her  attention.  Miss  Phillips  noticed  and  was 
annoyed,  but  she  said  nothing.  She  realized  that 
even  the  loveliest  characters  experience  perverse 
moods. 

"I  have  decided  on  yourself,  Ruth  Henry,  Ethel 


76  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

Todd,  Frances  Wright,  and  Mae  Van  Horn  for  for- 
wards ;  Edith  Evans  and  Marian  Guard  for  two  of 
the  half-backs,  and  Lily  Andrews  for  goal.  That 
leaves  one  half-back  and  two  full-backs  yet  to  be 
chosen,  and  I  think  we  ought  to  have  about  five  sub- 
stitutes. Now  whom  do  you  suggest?  Let's  think 
of  each  class  in  turn." 

Marjorie  concentrated  her  attention  upon  the  mat- 
ter at  hand,  and  thought  hard. 

"Is  Helen  Stewart's  ankle  all  right  by  now?"  she 
asked.  The  latter,  who  was  to  have  been  the  heroine 
in  the  play  at  the  last  Commencement,  had  sprained 
her  ankle  the  day  that  the  Scouts  had  entertained  a 
group  of  settlement  children,  and  had  been  obliged 
to  give  up  athletics  for  a  while.  Apparently,  how- 
ever, she  was  all  right  now. 

"Yes;  but  it  isn't  very  strong.  Suppose  we  put 
her  as  one  of  the  substitutes  ?" 

"All  right,"  agreed  Marjorie. 

"And  there's  nobody  else  in  the  senior  class." 

"No." 

"Nor  in  the  junior.  Ada  Mearns  could  play  well, 
if  she  would  only  try,  but  she  won't  bother.  Now 
what  do  you  think  about  your  own  class  ?" 

"Could  Doris  Sands  possibly ?" 

"Marjorie !"  reproved  Miss  Phillips.  "You're  let- 
ting your  personal  feelings  enter  into  the  consider- 
ation. Doris  Sands  is  very  sweet  and  very  capable, 
but — she's  no  hockey  player !" 


GOOD  TURN  77 

"That's  true,"  admitted  Marjorie.  "Well,  how 
about  Evelyn  Hopkins?  She  never  seems  to  get 
anything." 

But  again  the  teacher  shook  her  head.  "Evelyn 
doesn't  go  about  things  right,"  she  answered.  "In- 
dividually, she's  a  good  player,  but  she's  miserable 
in  team  work.  Evelyn  plays  selfishly." 

Marjorie  smiled ;  Miss  Phillips  seemed  to  sum  up 
the  girl's  character  correctly. 

"Of  course,  Mae's  new;  do  you  think  she  will 
make  good,  Captain  ?" 

"There's  no  doubt  about  it,"  replied  Miss  Phillips 
positively;  "making  the  sorority  last  year  was  bad 
for  Mae  VanHorn,  but  losing  out  on  the  Scout  troop 
was  a  good  thing.  All  of  her  best  friends  are 
Scouts,  and  she  certainly  has  buckled  down  to  work 
well.  The  other  teachers  tell  me  she  is  getting  along 
beautifully  thus  far  in  her  lessons." 

"We  can  never  get  seven  girls  out  of  the  fresh- 
man class!"  remarked  Marjorie,  skeptically. 

"Then  we'll  just  appoint  the  best  ones  for  the 
regular  positions,  and  trust  to  luck  for  substitutes 
till  we  have  a  regular  game.  It's  all  we  can  do !" 

"Well,  Edith  Evans'  sister  Florence  can  play  al- 
most any  position,"  said  Marjorie.  "She  surely  is  a 
dandy  girl ;  I  think  she'll  be  another  like  Edith." 

"Let's  put  her  in  for  full-back ;  that's  a  mighty  im~- 
portant  position,"  suggested  Miss  Phillips.  "And 


78  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

what  do  you  think  of  Alice  Endicott?  She's  cer- 
tainly worked  hard !" 

Marjorie's  eyes  brightened ;  she  wanted  that  little 
homesick  girl,  whom  she  had  been  pleased  to  call 
"her  freshman,"  to  win  out.  A  shadow  crossed  her 
face  as  she  thought  how  she  had  neglected  her  lately, 
while  all  her  thoughts  were  centered  on  Frieda  Ham- 
mer. And  Alice  appreciated  every  little  attention  so 
much,  while  Frieda  was  so  ungrateful. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  think  so,"  she  said  enthusiasti- 
cally ;  "I  have  watched  her,  too,  and  I  think  she  could 
hold  her  own  as  half-back." 

"Oh,  that  reminds  me,"  exclaimed  Miss  Phillips, 
"I  think  Daisy  Gravers  could  play  full-back." 

The  team  was  complete. 

It  became  apparent  that  Marjorie  was  anxious  to 
dismiss  the  subject,  for  she  rose  to  go. 

"But  we  have  only  one  substitute,"  remarked  Miss 
Phillips. 

Marjorie  paused  a  moment  before  she  replied. 
Then, 

"What  would  you  think  of  Barbara  Hill?" 

"Good — but  erratic.  Yes,  she'd  do  for  a  sub  for- 
ward. All  right,  then,  I'll  notify  the  girls,  and  call 
a  meeting*  to  elect  a  captain.  We  must  beat  Miss 
Martin's  this  year!" 

Marjorie  flushed  at  the  recollection  of  the  pre- 
vious year's  game,  which,  she  had  always  consid- 
ered, she  had  lost  for  her  school. 


GOOD  TURN  79 

"Let's  make  everybody  go  into  training  this  year !" 
she  said,  prompted  by  the  recollection. 

"All  right !"  agreed  Miss  Phillips.  Then,  abruptly 
changing  the  subject,  she  looked  straight  into  Mar- 
jorie's  eyes,  and  asked  softly, 

"What's  the  matter,  Marjorie?" 

The  girl  colored  again  under  her  scrutiny.  But 
there  was  no  use  in  attempting  to  hide  anything 
from  the  Captain. 

"Oh,  just  about  Frieda!    I'm  discouraged." 

Miss  Phillips  rose,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
shoulder. 

"Don't  worry,  dear ;  it  will  be  all  right  in  the  end. 
But  it  is  a  long  process.  Anyhow,  I  have  kept  in 
close  touch  with  Frieda's  public  school  teachers,  and 
they  say  that  she  is  attending  to  her  work,  and  mak- 
ing good  headway.  She  even  stays  after  school  for 
extra  instruction.  And  you  know,  Marjorie,  there  is 
nothing — except  perhaps  religion — that  can  change 
a  person  like  education." 

The  Captain's  cheerful  words  encouraged  Mar- 
jorie. 

"We  did  make  a  good  deal  on  the  Japanese  fete, 
didn't  we?"  she  asked. 

"Over  a  hundred  dollars !  And  the  returns  aren't 
all  in  yet." 

"Well,  I  will  try  to  be  patient,"  said  Marjorie, 
walking  toward  the  door  of  the  office.  Then,  turn- 
ing around,  she  added, 


80  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Miss  Phillips,  couldn't  you  urge  all  the  Scouts  to 
adopt  a  friendly  attitude  toward  Frieda?  We'll 
never  get  anywhere  till  they  do !" 

"I  didn't  know  they  hadn't!"  replied  Miss  Phil- 
lips; "but  I  will  deliver  a  gentle  lecture  at  next 
Scout  meeting  if  you  think  there  is  any  doubt." 

Marjorie  flashed  her  grateful  look,  and  was  gone. 
Temporarily,  she  felt  cheered  and  relieved,  but  she 
knew  that  the  feeling  would  not  last.  Deep  in  her 
subconscious  mind,  she  sensed  dangerous  rocks 
ahead,  and  probably  treacherous  waters  to  go 
through,  before  Frieda  would  be  safe — morally  safe 
• — as  she  and  Lily  and  all  her  friends,  were  safe. 

But  she  would  be  brave;  she  would  not  cross  her 
bridges  before  she  came  to  them ! 


GOOD  TURN  81 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  LOST    CANOE 

IT  WAS  in  October  that  the  hockey  squad  was  an- 
nounced, and  a  meeting  held.  The  list  of  names 
which  Miss  Phillips  posted  upon  the  bulletin-board 
was  examined  with  breathless  interest  by  every  girl 
in  the  school;  for  there  would  be  no  new  Scouts 
chosen  from  among  those  who  had  not  already 
qualified  in  hockey. 

Except  among  the  fortunate  few,  a  great  feeling 
of  disappointment  prevailed  all  over  the  school. 
Girls  who  knew  that  their  report  marks  would  be 
high,  and  who  had  looked  eagerly  forward  to  be- 
coming Girl  Scouts  of  Pansy  troop,  were  sick  with 
despair  at  falling  short  of  the  coveted  goal. 

For  the  same  reason,  however,  the  few  new  girls 
who  had  made  the  team  appreciated  the  honor  all 
the  more.  It  meant  a  great  deal  to  Mae  VanHorn, 
who  had  lost  out  the  previous  year,  and  who  cared 
more  for  Marjorie  and  Frances  and  Ethel,  than  any 
of  the  other  girls  in  the  school.  It  brought  a  feel- 
ing of  pride  to  Barbara  Hill,  who  admired  Ruth  so 


82  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

ardently.  But  perhaps  it  carried  the  greatest  happi- 
ness of  all  to  the  three  freshmen  who  were  chosen — 
Florence  Evans,  Alice  Endicott,  and  Daisy  Gravers. 
If  their  marks  would  only  permit  them  to  become 
Girl  Scouts! 

For  the  past  week  Marjorie  had  been  happy. 
With  an  easy  majority,  she  had  been  elected  cap- 
tain of  the  team,  and  the  position  and  the  popularity 
pleased  her.  Then,  too,  she  spent  much  of  her  time 
with  Alice  Endicott,  who  simply  bubbled  over  with 
joyousness  all  the  time,  so  that  it  would  have  re- 
quired real  trouble  to  allow  anyone  to  be  sad  in  her 
presence.  And  Frieda,  although  she  had  never  gone 
so  far  again  in  accepting  Marjorie's  friendship  as 
she  had  on  that  first  Sunday  afternoon,  was  at  least 
civil.  She  treated  Mrs.  Johnson  with  a  fair  degree 
of  courtesy,  but  she  seemed  to  distrust  the  Scouts, 
and  avoided  them  on  every  occasion.  At  one  time 
Pansy  troop  had  invited  her  to  go  with  them  on  a 
hike,  but  she  had  refused  in  a  formal  little  note, 
written  in  an  uneven  hand,  and  evidently  dictated  by 
her  teacher. 

"It  must  have  been  that  insulting  remark  of 
Ruth's,  the  night  of  the  fete!"  Marjorie  assured  her- 
self, over  and  over.  "Except  for  that,  we'd  prob- 
ably be  good  friends  by  now !" 

Then  she  would  remind  herself  that  Frieda  really 
was  progressing,  that  the  troop  was  doing  its  part, 
and  that  there  was  actually  no  cause  to  worry. 


GOOD  TURN  83 

On  one  afternoon  that  was  warm  and  beautiful, 
and  for  which  there  was  no  hockey  practice  sched- 
uled, she  was  debating  in  her  mind  what  to  do,  when 
Lily  threw  open  the  door. 

"Marj !"  she  exclaimed,  "inside,  on  a  day  like 
this!" 

"Oh,  I'm  going  out,"  her  room-mate  replied 
slowly.  "Only  I  can't  decide  where.  What  are 
you  going  to  do?" 

"Play  tennis  with  Doris." 

"That's  nice." 

She  watched  Lily  put  on  her  bloomers,  which  the 
girls  were  allowed  to  wear  on  their  own  courts,  and 
her  sneakers,  still  undecided  as  to  her  course  of  ac- 
tion. 

"Want  to  play,  too?"  invited  Lily.  "Why  not  get 
Ruth,  and  we'll  make  it  doubles  ?" 

Marjorie  wrinkled  her  nose;  in  her  own  mind  she 
still  harbored  resentment  against  Ruth,  and  the  idea 
of  her  company  was  rather  distasteful. 

"No — thanks !  I  don't  want  to  do  anything  very 
strenuous." 

A  knock  sounded  at  their  door,  and  in  answer  to 
Lily's  cheery,  "Come!"  Alice  Endicott  entered. 

"If  I  bother  you  people  too  much,  just  put  me 
out!"  she  announced  gaily.  "I  simply  must  have 
company !" 

"Not  homesick?"  asked  Marjorie. 

"No,  indeed !     Only  I  want  to  go  for  a  walk,  or 


84  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

do  something;  and  your  society's  so  infinitely  more 
pleasant  than  my  own " 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  interrupted  Marjorie. 
"Let's  go  canoeing !" 

Alice  clapped  her  hands  with  delight.  She  had 
never  been  out  in  Marjorie's  canoe 'since  the  day 
when  their  friendship  had  really  started,  and  she 
longed  to  be  invited  again. 

"Oh,  how  lovely!"  she  cried.  "And  it's  such  a 
perfect  day!" 

"I'll  have  to  send  it  home  at  Thanksgiving,"  re- 
marked Marjorie,  as  she  and  Alice  crossed  the  cam- 
pus on  their  way  to  the  lake.  "And  I  don't  know 
how  I'll  ever  do  without  it." 

"Oh,  well,  there  will  be  skating,"  Alice  reminded 
her.  "And  then,  it  will  soon  be  spring  again." 

They  came  in  sight  of  the  tree  to  which  Marjorie 
always  kept  the  canoe  tied,  and  she  looked  anxiously, 
as  usual,  for  the  first  sight  of  it.  Suddenly,  her 
heart  stopped  beating :  she  could  not  see  it ! 

"Alice !"  she  shrieked,  in  terror.    "It's  gone !" 

Alice  followed  Marjorie's  gaze,  but  she,  too,  saw 
no  canoe.  However,  she  attributed  no  particular 
significance  to  that  fact. 

"It's  probably  around  the  other  side,"  she  said 
optimistically:  "or  maybe  you  tied  it  to  another 
tree." 

But  as  the  girls  came  nearer  to  the  spot,  Marjorie 
knew  that  she  had  been  right.  They  looked  all 


GOOD  TURN  85 

around  the  small  lake ;  but  the  canoe  was  nowhere  to 
be  found! 

"Somebody's  borrowed  it !"  suggested  Alice,  "and 
probably  couldn't  find  you  to  ask  permission!" 

"But  then  they'd  be  on  the  lake !" 

"No — if  you  should  carry  the  canoe  about  a  hun- 
dred yards,  you'd  find  the  stream  gets  deep  enough 
to  paddle.  And  it  goes  a  long  way,  too,  even  joins 
a  river.  I  know  because  once  Daisy  and  I  hiked  and 
hiked,  meaning  to  follow  it  to  the  end.  There  were 
several  swift  places  where  you  might  have  to  carry 
the  canoe  a  few  yards,  but  it  could  easily  be  done." 

Marjorie's  face  brightened  at  the  hope  the  words 
offered. 

"Let's  walk  up  that  way  ourselves,"  she  sug- 
gested. 

Climbing  the  school  fence  at  the  edge  of  the  lake, 
they  followed  a  little  creek,  which,  though  shallow 
in  many  places,  could  still  be  navigated  by  a  canoe. 

"Why  didn't  any  of  us  ever  think  of  this?"  re- 
marked Marjorie.  "I've  never  had  the  canoe  off  the 
lake." 

"Couldn't  we  try  it  to-morrow?"  asked  Alice, 
wondering  whether  it  were  quite  the  thing  for  her 
to  suggest. 

"Yes,  I'd  love  to !"  replied  Marjorie.  But  her  ex- 
pression grew  sad  again,  as  she  recalled  the  circum- 
stances which  led  them  on  this  walk  of  exploration. 

The  woods  were  wonderful  now,  dressed  in  their 


86  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

gorgeously  colored  foliage.  Brown,  orange,  scar- 
let, with  just  enough  somber  evergreen  to  set  off  the 
brilliancy  of  the  other  trees  by  contrast,  the  scene 
was  at  the  height  of  its  splendor.  But  so  intent  were 
the  girls  upon  watching  the  water,  they  hardly  no- 
ticed the  spectacle. 

"Look!  Look !"  cried  Alice  suddenly.  "There — 
around  that  bend!  Isn't  that  the  end  of  a  canoe?" 

Marjorie  held  her  hand  to  her  forehead,  and 
shaded  her  eyes  in  an  effort  to  distinguish  the  object 
in  the  distance.  But,  although  she  saw  what  Alice 
meant,  it  was  too  far  off  for  identification.  In  their 
eagerness,  the  girls  started  to  run. 

Marjorie  was  the  first  to  stop,  realizing  her  mis- 
take. 

"It's  a  dead  tree  trunk!"  she  gasped,  out  of  breath 
from  the  exertion. 

She  stopped  and  leaned  against  a  tree,  tired  out 
and  disappointed.  But  she  resolutely  conquered  her 
desire  to  cry:  whatever  happened,  she  must  not 
break  down  before  a  freshman ! 

"Let's  go  back,"  she  said.    "I'm  awfully  tired." 

"We  might  as  well,"  said  Alice.  "For  whoever 
has  borrowed  it  will  be  sure  to  bring  it  back  by 
supper  time." 

"Perhaps;  but  somehow  I  feel  as  if  it  were  gone 
forever!  I  can't  tell  you  why " 

"Oh,  please  don't  worry,  Marj !"  begged  the 
younger  girl.  "Nobody  would  take  it !" 


GOOD  TURN  87 

They  went  to  Marjprie's  room,  and  discussed  the 
occurrence  over  and  over.  Alice  stayed  until  half- 
past  five,  when  Lily  came  back  from  tennis. 

"Too  dark  to  play !"  cried  /Lily  as  she  threw  open 
the  door.  "Heavens,  why  sit  in  darkness?" 

Marjorie  and  Alice  had  hardly  noticed  the  gradu- 
ally deepening  twilight,  so  wrapped  up  were  they  in 
the  event  of  the  afternoon.  They  blinked  as  Lily 
flashed  on  the  lights. 

"Who  won?"  asked  Marjorie,  half-heartedly. 

"Doris,  of  course!"  This  carelessly.  Then,  look- 
ing closely  at  her  room-mate,  she  realized  that  some- 
thing was  wrong. 

"What's  happened,  Marj?  No  bad  news  from 
home?" 

"Oh,  no — it  isn't  that."  Marjorie  swallowed 
hard,  in  the  effort  to  keep  her  voice  calm.  Then, 
blurting  it  out,  "I've  lost  my  canoe!" 

Lily  stood  perfectly  still  in  open-mouthed  amaze- 
ment, while  Alice,  assisted  here  and  there  by  Mar- 
jorie, told  of  the  afternoon's  adventure.  But  Lily 
smiled  reassuringly. 

"You're  worrying  yourself  needlessly,  Marj. 
Somebody's  borrowed  it,  of  course !  It  couldn't  have 
drifted  away — there's  no  place  for  it  to  drift — and 
surely  nobody  would  steal  it!" 

"Somebody  must  have!"  declared  Marjorie,  feel- 
ing now  that  any  moment  she  would  break  down. 
To  her  relief,  Alice  arose  to  go. 


88  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  upon  the  retreating 
freshman,  Marjorie  began  to  sob  violently.  Lily 
went  over  and  sat  beside  her. 

"Don't,  Marj,  please  don't!"  she  begged.  "Wait 
till  after  supper,  at  least.  I'll  go  over  and  tell  Miss 
Allen  all  about  it  the  minute  I'm  dressed,  and  we'll 
see  what  she  can  do." 

Marjorie  dried  her  eyes,  and  the  girls  got  ready 
for  supper.  In  fifteen  minutes,  Lily  was  ready  to 

go- 

"Tell  Miss  Allen  not  to  make  any  announcement 
till  the  very  end  of  the  meal,  so  that  if  I  get  any 
news  of  the  canoe,  I  can  let  her  know." 

But  Marjorie  was  disappointed  to  find  that  no 
one  came  up  to  her  with  an  explanation  or  an  apol- 
ogy. Unfortunately,  too,  all  the  girls  were  present 
at  the  meal — a  circumstance  which  left  her  no  room 
for  the  hope  that  one  of  her  school-mates  had  the 
canoe. 

Just  as  dessert  was  being  served,  she  caught  Miss 
Allen's  questioning  eyes  fastened  upon  hers,  and  she 
shook  her  head  sadly  in  reply  to  the  silent  interroga- 
tion. Accordingly,  the  Principal  arose  and  told 
Marjorie's  story,  and  asked  whether  anyone  had 
seen  the  canoe.  But  there  was  no  response. 

"Girls,  I  don't  suspect  anybody,"  she  said,  after 
a  few  minutes  of  silence,  "but  just  for  the  sake  of 
formality,  I  will  call  a  meeting  for  eight  o'clock  this 
evening  and  ask  every  girl  where  she  was  early  this 


GOOD  TURN  89 

afternoon,  for  Marjorie  tells  me  that  she  saw  it  her- 
self at  one  o'clock." 

"Oh,  Miss  Allen !"  interrupted  Marjorie,  much  to 
everyone's  consternation,  "I  really  don't  want  to  go 
as  far  as  that !  I  am  sure  that  none  of  the  girls  took 
it." 

"Somebody  might  have  taken  it  for  a  prank,"  re- 
marked the  Principal,  without  administering  any  re- 
proof for  the  interruption.  "And  we  may  as  well  go 
on  with  the  investigation." 

There  was  not  a  single  girl  at  the  school  who 
dared  to  absent  herself  from  that  meeting.  Miss 
Allen  herself  presided,  and,  beginning  with  the  se- 
nior class,  she  requested  each  girl  in  turn  to  rise 
and  state  where  she  had  spent  the  early  part  of  the 
afternoon. 

"And  whenever  another  girl  can  confirm  a  state- 
ment, I  wish  she  would  do  so,"  added  Miss  Allen. 

The  meeting  proceeded  rapidly;  the  girls,  a  little 
nervous  at  the  recital  in  public  of  their  own  affairs, 
nevertheless  spoke  swiftly;  and,  without  a  single  ex- 
ception, their  statements  were  all  confirmed  by  other 
girls. 

The  whole  proceeding  served  only  to  intensify 
Marjorie's  despondency.  Now,  she  felt,  the  girls 
might  think  that  she  suspected  them,  which  in  reality 
had  never  been  the  case.  When  Miss  Allen  had  sug- 
gested a  joke,  her  mind  naturally  flew  to  Ruth ;  but 
now  that  the  whole  affair  had  assumed  such  serious 


90  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

proportions,  she  dismissed  that  solution  from  her 
thoughts. 

The  last  freshman  in  the  school  was  recounting 
her  afternoon's  program,  when  one  of  the  house- 
maids threw  open  the  door. 

The  faces  all  swung  instantly  around,  and  the 
speaker  became  silent.  The  newcomer  announced 
her  mission  without  delay: 

"An  important  message  for  Miss  Phillips,"  she 
said.  "I  took  it  over  the  telephone." 

"Will  you  give  it  to  me  ?"  asked  the  latter,  rising 
and  advancing  to  take  what  she  expected  to  be  a 
written  message. 

"Yes,  ma'am ;  I  didn't  write  it  down,"  she  replied. 
And  before  Miss  Phillips  could  warn  her  not  to  in- 
form the  whole  school,  she  shouted  out,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  everyone, 

"Mrs.  Johnson  sent  word  that  Frieda  Hammer 
has  been  missing  since  half-past  one  tins  after- 
noon" 

"With  Marjorie  Wilkinson's  canoe!"  exclaimed 
Ruth,  in  a  tone  that  was  audible  all  over  the  assem- 
bly room. 


GOOD  TURN  91 


CHAPTER  X 


THE    HALLOWE  EN    PARTY 

THE  meeting  which  Miss  Allen  had  begun  with 
such  formality  ended  in  a  turmoil.  Everyone 
jumped  up  excitedly  at  the  news  of  Frieda's  disap- 
pearance and  at  the  interpretation  which  Ruth  gave 
to  the  occurrence. 

For  all  the  girls  in  the  school — even  those  who 
were  not  Scouts — knew  about  Frieda  Hammer. 
They  were  aware,  too,  of  the  fact  that  the  Japanese 
fete  had  been  given  to  raise  money  to  support  her, 
and  it  was  common  knowledge  that  over  a  hundred 
dollars  had  been  cleared. 

But  only  the  Scouts  themselves  knew  the  details : 
that,  after  five  weeks'  board  had  been  paid  in  ad- 
vance, Frieda  had  been  given  fifteen  dollars,  which 
she  was  to  use  for  her  ticket  home  on  Thanksgiving. 
This  idea  had  been  Marjorie's ;  she  wanted  by  some 
such  outward  sign  to  testify  to  the  girl  that  the 
Scouts  trusted  her.  Miss  Phillips,  Ruth,  and  one  or 
two  others  had  opposed  the  plan,  but  Marjorie's  en- 
thusiasm had  finally  carried  it. 


92  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

So  now  Marjorie  had  this  double  tragedy  to  face : 
she  had  not  only  lost  her  canoe,  but  her  confidence 
had  been  betrayed.  And  Ruth,  who  had  prophesied 
something  of  the  sort  from  the  first,  had  triumphed ! 

Miss  Phillips  was  too  wise  to  call  a  Scout  meeting 
immediately;  she  wanted  to  give  the  discussion  a 
chance  to  simmer  down.  Besides  this,  she  felt 
deeply  for  Marjorie.  The  girl  had  encountered  a 
terrible  disappointment ;  older  and  more  experienced 
people  than  Marjorie  had  broken  down  under  par- 
allel circumstances.  Miss  Phillips  wanted  to  give 
her  a  good  chance  to  cry;  after  that,  she  depended 
upon  Lily's  good  sense  and  tact  to  console  her. 

Accordingly,  nothing  was  done  until  the  next 
night,  when  Miss  Phillips  called  the  Scouts  to  a 
meeting. 

The  subject  was  hardly  mentioned  before  Ruth 
Henry  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Captain,"  she  began,  talking  rather  fast,  for  she 
had  in  her  own  mind  a  number  of  points  that  she 
wished  to  make,  "we  all  have  to  admit  that  we  have 
failed.  The  idea — social  service,  Good  Turn,  what- 
ever you  want  to  call  it — is  splendid ;  but  the  person 
we  selected,  unworthy.  Let's  forget  all  about  it ;  for 
we  can't  get  back  Marjorie's  canoe.  It's  probably 
sold  by  now. 

"Well,  this  is  my  suggestion :  hold  our  bazaar  just 
as  we  have  planned,  and  use  the  money,  first  to  buy 
Marjorie  a  new  canoe,  and  then  to  bring  a  nice 


GOOD  TURN  93 

Christmas  to  some  needy  family,  in  the  village,  with 
lots  of  children." 

"Hurray !  Good  for  you,  Ruth !"  cried  several  of 
the  girls  impulsively  when  she  sat  down. 

Amid  their  shouts,  however,  Marjorie  stumbled 
to  her  feet.  She  looked  pale,  as  if  she  had  slept  lit- 
tle the  previous  night ;  and  her  eyes  bore  the  traces 
of  tears.  But  outwardly  she  was  calm. 

"It  is  awfully  good  of  Ruth,"  she  said,  seriously, 
"but  I  really  wouldn't  want  the  troop  to  replace  my 
canoe.  I  won't  need  it  much  longer  this  fall,  and 
perhaps  father  will  give  me  one  for  my  next  birth- 
day. And  I  like  Ruth's  suggestion  about  the  poor 
family.  But" — she  lowered  her  voice  and  pro- 
nounced each  word  slowly  and  very  distinctly — "is 
the  troop  going  to  accept  this  defeat  as  final?" 

"You  mean,  Marjorie,  that  you  would  like  to  give 
Frieda  another  chance?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"Yes."  The  word  was  little  more  than  a  whis- 
per. 

Miss  Phillips  said  nothing;  she  was  simply  as- 
tounded at  the  girl's  generosity.  Frieda  Hammer 
had  stolen  Marjorie's  dearest  possession,  and  yet  the 
latter  was  ready  to  forgive  her ! 

But  Ruth  interpreted  Marjorie's  attitude  merely 
as  the  usual  opposition  to  her  own  suggestions. 

"Then  would  you  like  to  put  a  detective  on  the 
case?"  she  asked. 


94  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"No!  A  thousand  times,  no!"  protested  Mar- 
jorie, emphatically. 

"Then  what  could  we  do  to  trace  her?" 

"I  could  at  least  telegraph  to  her  mother,  with  a 
prepaid  reply,"  put  in  Miss  Phillips. 

"Oh,  do — please  do!"  begged  Marjorie;  and  the 
affair  rested  at  that. 

"Now,"  said  Ethel,  anxious  to  change  the  subject, 
"let's  talk  about  our  Hallowe'en  party.  It's  only  a 
little  over  a  week  off !" 

The  tone  of  the  meeting  changed  from  that  of 
serious-minded  discussion  of  a  theft  and  its  treat- 
ment, to  care-free  chatter  about  an  evening  of  fun. 
Even  Marjorie  put  aside  her  trouble  for  the  time  and 
entered  heartily  into  the  preparations. 

The  Hallowe'en  party  was  to  be  the  last  event  of 
the  Scout  troop  as  it  now  stood.  The  day  following 
— November  first — the  reports  would  be  issued,  and 
the  new  Scouts  would  officially  join  the  troop  at  the 
next  meeting.  This  would  necessitate  new  divisions 
into  the  patrols,  re-elections,  etc. 

The  fifteen  girls  who  now  belonged  to  Pansy 
troop  felt  especially  close  together.  All,  except 
Helen  Stewart  and  Anna  Cane,  had  lived  side  by 
side  at  camp,  eaten  at  the  same  table,  gathered 
around  the  same  camp  fire  at  night,  been  comrades 
on  many  hikes,  and  competed  in  the  contest  which 
Marjorie  had  so  unexpectedly  won.  They  wanted 
their  troop  to  grow,  and  to  take  in  new  girls,  espe- 


GOOD  TURN  95 

cially  if  a  troop  was  to  be  established  at  the  rival 
seminary:  but  they  were  glad  to  be  allowed  this 
party  for  themselves. 

The  day  after  the  Scout  meeting,  Miss  Phillips 
sent  a  telegram  to  Frieda  Hammer's  mother,  and  re- 
ceived the  following  reply : 

"No  signs  of  Frieda.  Is  she  kidnapped? — M. 
Hammer." 

Marjorie's  last  hopes  vanished  as  she  read  the 
telegram.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done ;  she  must 
be  content  to  give  up  her  dream.  Miss  Phillips  sug- 
gested that  the  girl  might  come  back  again  after 
her  money  was  all  spent ;  upon  this  meager  supposi- 
tion Marjorie  fastened  her  expectations. 

In  the  meantime,  preparations  for  the  Hallowe'en 
party  were  in  full  swing.  Miss  Phillips  had  sug- 
gested that  each  girl  dress  to  represent  a  character 
in  history. 

"Choose  a  man  or  a  woman,  whichever  you 
please,"  she  told  them;  "but  don't  try  to  get  your 
parents  to  send  you  costumes !  Make  them  your- 
selves, for  they  needn't  be  too  elaborate.  Then  we 
can  guess  which  one  each  character  represents,  as 
well  as  the  identity  of  the  girl  who  wears  the  cos- 
tume." 

The  gymnasium  was  decorated  with  corn  stalks 
and  autumn  leaves,  and  here  and  there  against  the 
walls  stood  stuffed  paper  witches,  to  remind  the 
guests  that  it  was  really  Hallowe'en.  Weird,  soft 


96  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

music  was  coming  from  the  victrola  to  remind  one 
that  ghosts  were  abroad  that  night. 

George  and  Martha  Washington,  with  powdered 
hair  and  silver  buckled  shoes  were  the  first  guests  to 
be  greeted  by  the  committee.  Soon  after  them  came 
Pocohontas,  and  a  Quaker  who  was  intended  to  be 
Elizabeth  Fry,  but  who  might  have  represented  al- 
most any  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends. 

Marjorie  and  Lily  came  as  John  Alden  and  Pris- 
cilla — proud  because  they  were  on  time  for  once,  and 
enjoying  the  fun  of  acting  the  part  of  lovers. 

"It  reminds  me  of  the  masquerade  at  camp," 
whispered  Marjorie;  "remember?" 

"Yes,  wasn't  that  ridiculous  ?  But  you  know  this 
is  really  clever.  Oh,  look  at  these !" 

Eight  masqueraders,  all  dressed  as  women  and 
representing  various  characters  from  Queen  Eliza- 
beth to  Florence  Nightingale,  came  in,  walking 
rather  awkwardly,  as  if  hampered  by  their  skirts. 

"But  who  can  they  be  ?" 

"There  are  too  many  of  them!"  laughed  Lily; 
"wouldn't  you  say  that  there  were  more  than  fifteen 
of  us  here  now  ?" 

Lily  made  an  effort  to  count,  but  the  guests  moved 
so  constantly  that  the  act  was  almost  impossible. 
However,  when  seven  more  masqueraders  arrived 
in  a  group,  the  girls'  suspicions  were  confirmed. 
Miss  Phillips  must  have  invited  outsiders !  Per- 
haps she  even  knew  the  marks,  and  from  them  was 


GOOD  TURN  97 

able  to  ascertain  which  girls  would  be  Girl  Scouts, 
and  wishing  to  surprise  the  troop,  had  secretly  in- 
vited them. 

The  riddle  was  too  much  for  them;  Lily  gave  it 
up,  and  returned  to  the  fun  of  acting  the  part  of 
lover  to  Marjorie.  She  was  just  putting  her  arm 
affectionately  about  her  room-mate,  when  the  trained 
nurse,  who  was  supposed  to  represent  Florence 
Nightingale,  approached,  and,  in  a  very  squeaky,  ob- 
viously disguised  voice,  said, 

"I'm  jealous,  young  man.  Won't  you  please  kiss 
me?" 

Lily  laughingly  leaned  toward  the  intruder  and 
was  about  to  grant  the  request,  when  her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  nurse's  hand.  It  could  not  belong  to  a 
girl! 

"Who  are  you?"  she  demanded  indignantly. 

"Florence  Nightingale !" 

Lily  stamped  her  foot  impatiently.  "No,  I  mean 
in  real  life!" 

The  other  raised  the  mask  obediently,  and  to  the 
girls'  astonishment,  revealed  himself  as  Dick  Rob- 
erts! 

"The  Boy  Scouts!"  cried  Lily,  out  loud,  and  the 
news  spread  like  wild  fire. 

The  guessing  began,  and  the  votes  were  taken. 
After  a  few  moments,  the  prize  was  awarded  to 
General  Pershing — a  girl,  evidently — who  was 
dressed  in  a  real  Army  uniform,  adorned  with  many 


98  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

medals  and  campaign  bars.  Across  the  front,  on  a 
white  ribbon,  she  wore,  to  the  amusement  of  every- 
one, these  letters : 

"COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF !" 

That,  and  her  mustache,  made  a  mistake  impos- 
sible. 

But  no  one  guessed  her  identity,  until  Marjorie 
noticing  her  hands,  exclaimed, 

"Ruth  Henry!"  and  the  victor  laughingly  un- 
masked. 

It  was  another  triumph  for  Ruth! 

Miss  Phillips  called  for  the  boys  to  volunteer  to 
carry  in  the  tubs  of  water  filled  with  apples,  and  as 
Marjorie  watched  the  proceeding  a  homesick  feel 
ing  stole  over  her.     John  Hadley  was  no  longer 
there ! 

She  glanced  at  Lily,  radiant  with  the  excitement 
and  pleasure,  and  decided  that  she,  too,  would  find 
some  boy  to  be  interested  in.  Turning  around  at 
the  mention  of  her  own  name,  she  found  David  Con- 
ner waiting  to  put  her  name  on  his  dance  program. 

The  Scouts  played  games  and  danced  until  ten 
o'clock,  and  then  Miss  Phillips  announced  that  re- 
freshments were  ready  in  the  basement. 

"The  basement!"  repeated  Frances,  in  amaze- 
ment. "Do  you  mean  that,  Captain?" 

"Yes;  and  we  are  going  to  reach  it  through  the 
underground  connection  between  the  gym  and  the 
main  building,"  explained  Miss  Phillips;  "so  we 


GOOD  TURN  99 

shall  walk  over  to  the  main  hall  and  go  down  the 
cellar  and  then  follow  single  file  through  this  dark 
passage  to  the  basement.  You  may  see  something 
weird!" 

"Who's  going  to  lead?"  asked  Ruth,  her  eyes 
shining  with  excitement. 

"We'll  draw  lots!" 

And,  by  the  irony  of  chance,  the  part  fell  to  Doris 
Sands,  the  most  timid  girl  in  the  troop. 

"Oh,  Captain,  I'll  die  of  fright !"  she  protested. 

"It's  only  play,  Doris !    You  won't  mind." 

Laughing  and  chatting  gaily  they  strolled  in 
groups  across  the  driveway  to  the  main  building; 
then  down  the  narrow  cellar  steps  at  the  rear  of  the 
hall,  and  across  the  cellar  to  a  dark  passage. 

"Here  we  are!"  announced  Miss  Phillips,  calling 
everyone  to  a  halt.  "Now  get  in  single  file." 

Doris  went  first,  with  Roger  Harris  behind ;  then 
came  Ruth,  Jack  Wilkinson,  Marjorie,  and  Lily — 
all  eager  for  the  adventure.  Forming  a  long  chain 
with  their  right  hands  on  the  shoulders  in  front, 
they  advanced  cautiously.  After  the  first  few  steps, 
the  passage  became  lower,  and  pitch-black ;  they  had 
to  bend  down  and  feel  their  way  step  by  step  as 
they  went. 

"Oh!"  shrieked  Doris,  stopping  suddenly.  "Look! 

Ugh!" 

Roger  and  Ruth,  peering  around  her  shoulder, 


100  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

caught  sight  of  a  pair  of  gleaming  eyes  piercing 
through  the  darkness. 

"It's  a  cat !"  cried  Roger,  reassuringly.  "But  how 
in  the  world  did  you  succeed  in  keeping  it  there  ?" 

"I  tied  a  chicken-bone  to  a  stone,"  answered  Miss 
Phillips.  "And  nothing  will  induce  pussy  to  leave." 

Frightened  by  the  voices,  the  cat  fled  immediately, 
and  the  procession  continued.  In  a  minute  or  two, 
Doris  caught  sight  of  a  ghost.  But  this  time  she  was 
not  really  frightened. 

"I  know  it's  only  a  dummy!"  she  said.  "I'm  not 
afraid  any  more !" 

But  when  the  ghost  actually  began  to  stretch  out 
its  arms  and  move  towards  her,  Doris  admitted  that 
she  was  scared,  and  clung,  trembling,  to  Roger.  For 
the  hands  of  the  ghost  were  the  bony  structures  of  a 
human  skeleton,  and  its  head  was  an  empty  skull! 

"That's  our  lab  skeleton,  I'll  bet!"  exclaimed 
Roger.  "But  who's  moving  it?" 

"I  am !"  laughed  David  Conner,  throwing  off  his 
disguise. 

With  another  yard,  light  was  visible  ahead,  and 
the  basement  of  the  gymnasium  came  into  view. 
Doris  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"It's  nice  to  stand  up  straight  again,  isn't  it?" 
remarked  Marjorie,  as  the  whole  party  reached  the 
less  cramped  quarters.  "But  that  was  a  great  idea, 
Captain!" 

"Wouldn't  it  make  a  jolly  place  to  haze  fresh- 


GOOD  TURN  101 

men?"  commented  Ruth,  who  never  grew  tired  of 
playing  tricks. 

"Refreshments  are  ready!"  announced  the  Cap- 
tain. "Look  for  your  place-cards." 

The  basement  was  so  cleverly  camouflaged  and 
the  table  so  charmingly  decorated  that  the  effect 
could  not  have  been  better  in  the  most  elaborate  din- 
ing hall.  Corn-stalks,  crepe-paper,  candles,  and 
favors  worked  wonders  with  the  usually  ugly  room. 

It  seemed,  too  as  if  there  were  everything  imagi- 
nable to  eat — sandwiches,  doughnuts,  cider,  apples, 
nuts,  and  candy — indeed,  Marjorie  regretted  that 
she  must  eat  carefully,  for  she  was  still  in  training. 

Seated  with  David  Conner  next  to  her  on  one 
side  and  Dick  Roberts  on  the  other,  she  had  not  a 
single  dull  moment  in  which  to  regret  the  absence  of 
John  Hadley.  All  too  soon  the  party  came  to  an 
end. 

"If  only  our  good  turns  were  as  successful  as  our 
good  times,"  remarked  Marjorie,  as  she  and  Lily 
made  their  way  to  their  room,  "Pansy  troop  would 
be  wonderful !" 

"You're  worrying  about  Frieda  Hammer  again," 
remonstrated  lyily.  "Do  try  to  forget  her!" 

"I  almost  wish  I  could !"  replied  the  other,  with  a 
sigh. 


102  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE     HAUNTED     HOUSE 

IT  WAS  the  first  of  November,  the  day  when  the 
reports  were  to  be  given  out ! 

Marjorie  had  no  fears  for  her  own  marks  now, 
she  knew  that  she  would  pass  creditably.  But  she 
glanced  sympathetically  towards  Alice  Endicott,  and 
Daisy  Gravers,  those  freshmen  who  were  so 
anxiously  waiting  for  the  deciding  factor. 

She  recalled  the  parallel  situation,  early  last 
spring,  when  she  had  awaited  her  own  report  with 
such  trepidation.  And  then  to  have  been  disap- 
pointed— through  Ruth's  cruel  dishonesty!  She 
hoped  with  all  her  heart  that  there  was  no  such  dis- 
appointment in  store  for  Alice. 

Miss  Allen's  secretary  read  the  list,  and  the  girls 
came  forward  to  receive  their  reports,  stumbling 
back  to  their  seats  in  their  haste  to  examine  them. 
Marjorie  found  herself  calm  when  her  own  name 
was  called,  but  actually  trembling  when  Alice  an- 
swered the  summons. 

Miss  Phillips  had  promised  to  hike  to  a  certain  so- 


GOOD  TURN  103 

called  "haunted  house"  in  the  vicinity,  taking  a  pic- 
nic supper, — in  celebration  of  the  new  Scouts.  The 
troop  had  agreed  to  meet  for  a  moment  at  the  rear 
of  the  assembly  room  to  learn  who  these  girls  would 
be. 

But  Marjorie  did  not  need  to  wait  for  the  meet- 
ing to  know  the  news  from  Alice.  The  girl's  ex- 
pression of  bitter  mortification  told  the  story  only 
too  plainly!  Marjorie  dropped  her  eyes;  she  could 
not  bear  to  see  her  cry. 

And  then  an  overwhelming  feeling  of  remorse 
took  possession  of  her.  Perhaps  it  was  her  fault! 
Perhaps,  if  instead  of  wasting  time  and  thoughts 
upon  good-for-nothing  Frieda  Hammer,  she  had 
helped  Alice  in  her  studies,  she  might  now  be  a 
Scout !  And  yet  Marjorie  was  sincere  enough  with 
herself  to  know  that  she  did  not,  even  now,  care  so 
much  about  Alice  or  her  success,  as  she  did  about 
Frieda.  She  realized,  too,  that  although  a  week  had 
gone  by,  she  was  still  hoping  that  the  runaway  would 
return.  Every  day  she  went  to  the  library  to  read 
the  advertisements  and  personals  in  the  newspapers 
in  search  of  a  clue.  And  every  day,  too,  she  read 
about  the  crimes,  fearful  lest  she  might  discover 
Frieda's  name,  or  a  description  of  her,  among  the  ac- 
counts. 

Bringing  her  thoughts  back  with  an  effort  to  Alice 
Endicott  and  the  Scouts  she  hurried  over,  at  the  dis- 


104  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

missal  of  the  assembly,  to  the  place  where  the  fresh- 
man was  standing. 

"What  branch  did  you  fail  in,  Alice?"  she  asked, 
in  the  most  matter-of-fact  tone  she  could  assume. 
She  knew  that  here  in  public  was  no  place  for  sym- 
pathy. 

"Chemistry!"  answered  Alice,  with  a  brave  effort 
to  suppress  a  sob. 

"Chemistry?"  repeated  Marjorie.  "But  I  don't 
understand — I  thought  you  made  ninety-five  in  that 
test!" 

"I  did;  but  I  cut  three  afternoon  lab  periods  for 
hockey !" 

Marjorie  laughed  in  relief.  "Why,  child,  you  can 
easily  make  that  up !  In  less  than  a  week  you'll  be  a 
Scout !  Is  everything  else  all  right?" 

'"Apparently." 

Immensely  cheered  by  Marjorie's  words  and  man- 
ner, Alice  proclaimed  herself  ready  to  join  the  Girl 
Scouts  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Here  they  en- 
countered wild  hilarity.  Everybody  was  congratu- 
lating the  new  girls.  Mae  VanHorn,  Florence 
Evans,  Daisy  Gravers,  and  Barbara  Hill  had  all 
made  the  required  mark. 

Alice,  now  quite  calm  and  self-controlled,  told  her 
story,  to  which  Marjorie  added  her  own  interpreta- 
tion. 

"But  you'll  miss  the  hike!"  exclaimed  Florence. 


GOOD  TURN  105 

"Oh,  are  you  going  right  away?"  asked  Alice, 
dolefully. 

"This  very  afternoon!"  replied  Miss  Phillips. 
"Fm  sorry,  Alice,  but  the  arrangements  are  all  made. 
Anyhow,  we'll  soon  have  another!" 

The  leaves  were  falling,  and  the  air  was  quite 
sharp;  the  Scouts  wore  heavy  sweaters  and  woolen 
caps  to  protect  them  from  the  cold. 

"We'll  look  for  nuts,"  said  Miss  Phillips.  "Re- 
member our  lesson  on  edible  plants?" 

"Yes,  indeed!"  they  all  cried.  "But  you  didn't 
tell  us  anything  about  nuts." 

"We'll  make  it  a  game,"  answered  the  Captain. 
"Each  girl  who  finds  a  new  variety  will  get  a  point. 
Whoever  has  the  greatest  number  of  points  by  the 
time  we  reach  the  haunted  house,  wins !" 

"How  are  we  to  know  the  haunted  house,  Cap- 
tain?" asked  Doris.  "I've  never  seen  it.  Is  there  a 
story  about  it?" 

"There  is  really  no  way  of  telling  that  the  house  is 
haunted,  Doris;  it  looks  like  any  other  house,  ex- 
cept that  it  is  larger,  and  was  once  upon  a  time  much 
finer  than  any  of  the  other  houses  for  miles  around. 
I  have  seen  it  on  a  number  of  occasions,  and  I  have 
heard  the  legend  that  is  still  told  about  it ;  but  I've 
never  been  inside,  so  I'm  rather  curious  to  see  what 
it's  like.  That's  why  I  suggested  that  we  have  our 
suppers  there." 

"But  does  anyone  live  there?"  asked  Lily. 


106  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"No,"  replied  Miss  Phillips ;  "it  has  not  been  oc- 
cupied for  years  and  years — not  since  anybody 
around  this  locality  can  remember.  Some  of  the 
uneducated  people  hereabouts  still  believe  it  is 
haunted,  I  understand ;  but  it  is  rather  unreasonable 
to  suppose  that  any  of  the  more  cultured  ones  take 
any  stock  in  the  old  story.  While  the  fact  that  it 
was  supposed  to  be  haunted  may  have  kept  people 
from  living  in  it  a  good  many  years  ago,  I  think  the 
real  reason  it  is  vacant  nowadays  is  because  it  is  so 
large  that  it  would  require  a  fortune  to  fix  it  up — it 
never  seems  to  have  had  any  care  taken  of  it — and 
another  fortune  to  keep  it  going  after  it  had  been 
made  habitable.  I  believe  it  is  still  owned  by  the 
heirs  of  the  original  owner,  who  live  in  England, 
and  that  the  estate  is  looked  after  by  a  firm  in  Phila- 
delphia, which  rents  the  ground  to  the  farmers. 
Why,  a  few  years  ago,  I  passed  by  the  house  often, 
and  after  I  had  heard  the  legend,  I  determined  to 
go  inside,  but  I  could  never  get  up  enough  courage." 

"Did  you  use  to  live  around  here,  Captain?"  asked 
Marjorie. 

"That  was  when  I  was  a  student  at  Miss  Allen's," 
answered  Miss  Phillips. 

"A  student  at  Miss  Allen's?"  echoed  the  girls,  in 
surprise. 

"I  never  knew  that,"  said  Marjorie.  "You  never 
told  us  before,  Captain,"  she  added  reproachfully. 

"Didn't  I  ?"  laughed  their  leader.    "Well,  I  did  go 


GOOD  TURN  107 

to  Miss  Allen's ;  and  I  liked  it  so  well  that  I  did  not 
want  to  leave;  so  when  I  finished  college,  I  went 
back  as  teacher." 

"No  wonder  you  seem  so  much  like  one  of  us,"  re- 
marked Marjorie. 

"Do  I  ?"  said  the  other,  rather  flattered  by  the  sug- 
gestion, in  the  girl's  remark,  of  the  place  she  held  in 
their  affections.  "Perhaps  that  is  because  I  feel  like 
one  of  you." 

"Captain,  won't  you  tell  us  the  story  of  the 
haunted  house  ?"  begged  Doris,  who,  while  she  was 
the  most  timid  girl  among  them,  was  always  the 
most  eager  to  hear  about  ghosts,  as  if  she  really  en- 
joyed the  creepy  feeling  that  it  gave  her. 

"Oh,  it's  too  long  to  tell  now,  Doris.  But  I  may 
tell  you  some  other  time ;  perhaps  if  I  told  you  now, 
some  of  you  would  not  want  to  visit  the  place." 

"Captain !  I've  got  a  chestnut !"  cried  Ruth,  hold- 
ing up  a  small,  familiar  nut. 

"Sure  enough — there's  the  tree !  Let's  stop  here  a 
minute,  and  all  get  some." 

Most  of  the  girls  succeeded  in  gathering  a  hand- 
ful, before  they  started  on.  They  proceeded  at  a 
leisurely  pace,  pausing  now  and  then  to  hunt  for  nuts 
or  to  examine  other  objects  of  interest  to  the  student 
of  nature. 

"Why,  there  are  some  birds,  and  they're  not  spar- 
rows, either!"  said  Daisy  Gravers,  indicating  sev- 
eral slate-colored  birds  about  the  size  of  English 


108  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

sparrows.  "I  didn't  know  there  were  any  other  win- 
ter birds  around  here !" 

"They  are  Juncos,  or  Snowbirds,"  explained  the 
Captain.  "They  are  a  winter  bird  with  us,  and  as 
soon  as  the  warm  weather  comes  they  will  fly  north. 
Don't  forget  to  put  them  down  in  your  notebooks, 
girls." 

They  had  now  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  woods, 
through  which  they  had  been  walking  for  some  time, 
and  Miss  Phillips  called  a  halt  and  suggested  that 
they  count  their  nuts.  Ruth,  who  had  been  the  most 
diligent  searcher,  won  the  game,  having  found  a 
greater  number  of  varieties  than  any  of  the  other 
girls.  The  Scout  Captain  told  them  something  about 
each  variety  and  the  tree  upon  which  it  grew,  be- 
fore they  continued  their  walk. 

"Only  a  short  distance  along  this  road,  and  we 
reach  the  haunted  house,"  said  Miss  Phillips. 

The  girls  walked  closer  around  her.  They  had 
emerged  into  open  country,  and  were  climbing  a 
winding  road  which  extended  before  them  uphill ;  on 
their  left  the  land  descended  gradually  to  a  valley 
below  them,  where  in  the  distance,  they  could  see  the 
scattered  houses  nestled  among  the  fields  of  fertile 
farm-land. 

"The  nearest  village  is  about  a  mile  down  the 
valley,"  the  Captain  informed  them.  "When  the 
haunted  house  was  built  it  was  the  farthest  away 


GOOD  TURN  109 

from  the  village,  but  since  that  time  a  number  of 
others  have  sprung  up  all  around  here." 

Mounting  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  they  found  that 
the  road,  instead  of  dipping  suddenly  down  again, 
was  level ;  and  that  to  the  right  of  it  there  started  a 
high  stone  wall  which  followed  the  irregularities  of 
the  road  for  a  considerable  distance.  It  was  cov- 
ered with  lichen  and  moss,  and  showed  gaps  here 
and  there  where  the  mortar  had  crumbled  away  and 
the  stones  fallen  in  a  heap  upon  the  ground ;  while 
in  other  places,  the  tangled  growth  of  ivy  vines  al- 
most entirely  obscured  the  stonework. 

The  Scouts  kept  to  the  road  until  they  came  to  a 
break  in  the  wall  which  formed  the  gateway.  Wide 
open  and  sagging  inward,  two  massive  gates  of  iron 
grill-work  had  rusted  and  settled  upon  their  hinges 
until  they  were  firmly  imbedded  and  immovable  in 
the  ground.  The  girls  stopped  and  were  examining 
the  intricacy  and  beauty  of  the  design  in  the  wrought 
iron-work,  when  an  old  woman  came  hobbling  along 
the  road  towards  them.  Doris  shivered ;  in  fact,  all 
of  the  girls  trembled  in  spite  of  themselves :  for  the 
creature,  thin,  tattered,  and  old,  reminded  them  of  a 
ghost  herself. 

"I  wouldn't  go  in  there,  if  I  was  you  girls,"  she 
warned  them,  holding  up  her  bony  hand.  "There 
was  a  strange-lookin'  figer  there  last  week  or  so! 
Nobody  seen  her  come,  and  nobody  seen  her  go — 
only  once  or  twice  some  of  us  that  lives  near-by  saw 


110  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

her  through  the  winder.  Some  said  she  were  a 
human,  out  of  her  mind,  some  says  she  were  a  spirit 
— only  but  for  the  boat  she  brung  with  her,  and  went 
away  in  again!" 

"The  boat!"  repeated  Marjorie,  breathlessly. 
"Was  it  a  canoe?" 

But  the  old  woman  shook  her  head;  she  did  not 
know  any  distinction  among  varieties  of  boats. 

"She  must  'a  come  by  the  stream  at  the  back  of  the 
Rouse,  and  vanished  the  same  way,"  muttered  the 
stranger ;  "but  whoever  she  was,  she  wan't  no  good ! 
What  with  her,  and  the  old  ghost  that  some  says 
shrieks  around  the  house  o'  nights,  nobody'd  get  me 
inside !  I  wish  you  wouldn't  go  in !" 

"Oh,  nothing  will  hurt  us,"  said  Miss  Phillips, 
gently.  "We  want  some  place  that  is  protected  from 
the  wind  where  we  can  eat  our  supper." 

"It  was  Frieda!  I  know  it  was  Frieda!"  cried 
Marjorie,  after  the  old  woman  had  left  them. 

"Well,  what  if  it  was?"  remarked  Ruth.  "You'll 
never  see  your  canoe  again,  so  there's  no  use  of  your 
getting  so  excited." 

"Probably  not,"  assented  Marjorie,  making  a  des- 
perate effort  to  calm  herself.  For  Ruth  could  never 
understand  \vhat  the  thing  meant  to  her.  Neverthe- 
less, she  was  encouraged  to  have  this  much  informa- 
tion about  the  girl. 

Close  together,  and  keyed  up  with  excitement, 
they  advanced  eagerly  along  the  lane  leading  to  the 


GOOD  TURN  111 

house,  which  they  could  see  about  a  hundred  yards 
away,  gray-white  through  the  grove  of  tall  trees 
which  surrounded  it.  And  as  they  drew  nearer  their 
agitation  seemed  to  become  intensified,  as  if  they 
were  about  to  discover — they  knew  not  what ! 

The  house  itself  was  a  perfect  example  of  old 
Colonial  mansion,  with  its  wide,  hospitable  doorway 
before  which  tall  columns  supported  a  balcony.  Its 
exterior,  despite  the  appearance  of  age  and  decay 
that  was  everywhere  apparent,  was  still  impressive 
by  reason  of  its  great  beauty  of  design. 

Standing  among  the  rank  weeds  which  grew  waist 
high  about  the  place,  they  gazed  in  awe  at  the  walls 
which  once  were  white,  but  now  were  streaked  and 
weather  stained;  at  the  windows,  whose  broken 
panes  admitted  the  rain  or  the  sunshine,  and  from 
which  the  shutters  were  sagging  or  had  fallen  com- 
pletely away;  at  the  shingles  of  the  roof,  violet- 
toned  and  curling  up ;  and  at  the  nests  the  birds  had 
built  in  the  chimneys  and  eaves. 

As  Miss  Phillips  stepped  upon  the  low  porch,  the 
rotting  boards  bent  beneath  her  weight.  Trying  the 
knob  of  the  massive  door,  she  found  it  locked. 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to  get  in  some  other  way,"  she 
said.  "Let's  walk  around  and  investigate." 

They  followed  her  around  to  the  back,  where 
through  the  trees  they  caught  sight  of  the  glistening 
water  of  the  stream.  But  here  also  the  doors  were 
locked,  and  not  wishing  to  effect  an  entrance  through 


112  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

a  window  if  a  door  were  available,  they  passed 
around  to  the  left  wing.  Here  they  mounted  the 
broad  piazza,,  and  Ruth  turned  the  knob  of  the  door, 
which  opened.  She  entered  boldly,  while  the  rest  of 
the  girls  followed  more  cautiously  behind  her.  They 
were  in  a  large  room,  well  lighted  by  its  many  win- 
dows. A  damp,  musty  odor  pervaded  the  place. 

"This  was  evidently  the  conservatory,"  remarked 
the  Captain.  "Let's  look  farther." 

They  explored  room  after  room,  holding  their 
breath  as  they  entered  each  one,  as  if  they  were 
about  to  discover  something  strange  and  terrifying 
there.  But  there  was  nothing  but  dust  and  cobwebs 
to  greet  their  eyes.  They  went  about  opening  doors, 
investigating  bedrooms,  peering  into  closets;  but 
they  could  find  nothing  interesting  or  exciting — not 
the  slightest  vestige  of  a  ghost. 

"I  guess  this  ghost  only  walks  at  night,"  said  Lily, 
—"or  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year." 

"It  certainly  looks  that  way,  doesn't  it?"  agreed 
Doris,  grown  quite  brave. 

Up  to  this  time,  not  one  girl  had  actually  ad- 
mitted to  herself  that  she  did  not  expect  to  find  a 
ghost;  and  none  could  tell  from  the  Captain's  ex- 
pression what  she  thought  of  it ;  but  now  they  were 
positive  that  they  did  not  believe  in  ghosts — the  idea 
was  too  preposterous — especially  when  Lily,  upon 
opening  a  closet-door,  exposed  an  old  wig-form 


GOOD  TURN  113 

which  lay  on  the  shelf,  and  which  caused  them  great 
amusement. 

"I  dare  say  the  people  who  lived  here  wore  arti- 
ficial wigs,  both  men  and  women,"  commented  Miss 
Phillips ;  "it  was  about  that  period." 

If  there  ever  was  a  ghost,  it  was  one  which  left 
no  traces ;  and  the  girls  became  more  at  ease  in  this 
atmosphere  of  emptiness.  They  did,  however,  have 
one  brief  moment  of  panic.  They  had  all  climbed 
the  stairs  to  the  third  floor  and  had  paused  upon  the 
landing,  undecided  as  to  which  way  they  should  go 
first,  when  a  sharp  whirring  or  rustling  was  heard 
in  the  room  nearest  them. 

For  an  instant  they  all  stood  perfectly  still,  para- 
lyzed by  fright.  Then  Miss  Phillips,  with  a  quick 
step  forward,  flung  open  the  door.  This  act  started 
the  rustling  again;  and  through  the  open  doorway 
they  could  see  that  it  was  nothing  but  a  swallow 
which  had  in  some  way  become  imprisoned  there. 
Marjorie  caught  it  in  her  hand,  where  it  lay  palpi- 
tating distressedly ;  and  thrusting  her  arm  through 
a  broken  pane  of  glass,  allowed  the  creature  to  es- 
cape. 

The  short  autumn  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
the  chillness  of  the  damp,  musty  atmosphere  was  be- 
ginning to  affect  the  girls  unpleasantly.  The  sight 
of  another  fire-place — there  seemed  to  be  one  in 
every  room — recalled  Miss  Phillips's  thoughts  to 
practical  things. 


114  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Let's  go  down  to  that  big  room,"  she  suggested, 
"and  prepare  our  supper." 

In  fifteen  minutes  a  bright  fire  was  going  and  the 
kettle  boiling  cheerily.  The  girls  were  so  busy  hur- 
rying to  and  fro  in  preparation  of  the  meal  that  they 
had  forgotten  the  ghost. 

It  was  only  after  they  were  seated  on  the  floor, 
and  had  time  to  look  around,  that  Marjorie  recalled 
the  situation  to  their  minds  by  remarking, 

"Can  you  imagine  Frieda  Hammer  staying  here 
all  night  long  by  herself?" 

The  girls  shuddered  at  the  suggestion. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  great  if  we  could  trace  her?"  said 
Edith,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "I  hate  to  think  of 
her  all  alone — with  no  protection." 

"Yes,"  answered  Miss  Phillips,  "though  I  haven't 
said  much  about  the  matter,  the  girl  has  been  con- 
stantly in  my  mind.  And  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I 
have  written  to  a  friend  of  mine,  a  woman  who  is 
a  private  detective,  and  asked  her  to  look  into  the 
matter.  She  would,  of  course,  make  nothing  public, 
but  would  only  try  to  bring  Frieda  back  here,  or 
send  her  home. 

"But  I  have  been  thinking  that  perhaps  some  of 
you  girls  might  have  a  plan,  so  I  am  going  to  offer 
a  medal  of  merit  to  any  Scout  who  locates  her. 
During  Thanksgiving — well,  I  will  leave  it  to  you! 
But  we  simply  must  find  Frieda !" 

The  fire  had  died  down  to  the  coals,  and  the  girls 


GOOD  TURN  115 

grew  silent  as  they  gazed  dreamily  at  the  pictures 
their  imaginations  invented.  It  was  Doris  who 
spoke  first. 

"Now  is  a  good  time  for  the  story,  Captain. 
Please  tell  us !"  she  pleaded. 

Miss  Phillips  hesitated,  glancing  keenly  at  the 
eager  faces  of  the  girls  around  her,  who  now  seemed 
perfectly  calm  and  self-possessed.  Then  she  looked 
at  her  watch;  it  was  not  quite  six  o'clock.  There 
would  still  be  time;  but  she  hesitated  to  tell  a  ghost- 
story  in  the  same  house — in  the  very  room ! — where 
the  ghost  was  supposed  to  appear.  It  was  the  girls' 
own  tranquil  manner  that  decided  her. 

"When  I  was  a  freshman  at  Miss  Allen's,"  she 
began,  "I  roomed  with  a  sophomore  whose  home 
was  not  far  from  here.  Several  times  I  went  with 
her  to  spend  week-ends  with  her  parents.  On  one 
of  these  occasions,  after  we  had  finished  dinner  and 
were  comfortably  seated  around  the  open  fire,  her 
grandfather — a  very  old  man  with  snow-white  hair 
— was  talking  of  his  boyhood  in  this  neighborhood. 
Even  then  this  house  was  believed  haunted,  but  the 
story  was  better  known  than  it  is  now,  when  there 
are  few  living  who  could  tell  the  details.  It  was 
my  good  fortune  to  hear  it  from  his  own  lips,  just 
as  his  grandfather  had  told  him. 

"His  grandfather,  he  said,  was  a  frequent  guest 
here  in  the  old  days.  The  man  who  built  this  house 
came  over  from  England,  it  was  said,  to  escape  scan- 


116  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

dal.  Very  wealthy,  handsome,  and  of  noble  birth, 
to  all  appearances  he  was  a  gentleman,  having  a  very 
gracious  way  about  him ;  but  in  reality  he  was  way- 
ward, headstrong,  and  dissipated.  He  entertained 
lavishly,  and  his  parties  were  the  talk  of  the  country- 
side— especially  the  dress-ball  which  he  gave  every 
New  Year's  Eve,  starting  at  midnight  and  contin- 
uing throughout  the  next  day  and  night.  It  was 
afterf  one  of  these  New  Year's  parties,  which  was 
particularly  riotous,  that  he  disappeared  as  myste- 
riously as  he  had  come.  Friends  who  called  at  the 
house  several  days  after  the  event  found  that  the 
servants  and  the  furniture  had  vanished,  no  one 
knew  whither,  and  the  house  completely  empty. 
Naturally,  this  gave  rise  to  much  speculation  on  the 
part  of  the  townsfolk,  who  invented  many  stories; 
some  said  that  he  had  repented  of  his  evil  ways  and 
fled  into  retirement;  others  that  the  devil  had  car- 
ried him  off  for  a  companion  in  wickedness. 

"Meanwhile,  the  house  remained  deserted,  and 
decay  set  in.  It  was  not  until  the  following  New 
Year's  Eve  that  it  was  seen  occupied  again;  then, 
two  men  who  were  returning  late  from  a  revel  took 
a  short-cut  through  the  garden  in  front  of  the  house. 
The  moon,  flooding  the  house  with  a  pale  light, 
showed  shadows  passing  and  repassing  before  the 
windows  of  the  reception  hall.  The  watchers 
clutched  at  each  other  in  sudden  fear. 

"  'This  is  the  anniversary !'  said  one,  in  a  hoarse 


GOOD  TURN  117 

whisper;    and   they   went   home   to    talk   it   over. 

"They  agreed  to  say  nothing  about  it;  but  when 
the  next  night  still  another  saw  the  same  occurrence, 
they  made  the  story  known.  That  was  the  begin- 
ning of  the  ghost  legend.  And  while  the  place  con- 
tinued deserted  and  silent  at  all  other  times,  year 
after  year  on  the  anniversary  of  the  great  ball,  some 
late  reveler  was  sure  to  report  tales  of  strange  do- 
ings there.  It  formed  a  fine  topic  of  discussion  on  a 
winter  evening  at  the  inn,  when  the  wind  outside 
howled  about  the  four  corners. 

"Now  there  were  those  who  believed  in  these  old 
wives'  tales,  and  those  who  did  not;  and  numbered 
among  the  scoffers  was  one  Simon  Some-body-or- 
other,  whom  the  village  folk  called  Simple  Simon, 
partly  because  of  his  foolish  appearance,  and  partly 
because  of  his  great  love  for  pies.  Simon  was  the 
village  fiddler — in  fact,  he  had  never  been  known  to 
do  anything  else — and  was  in  great  demand  at  all  the 
feasts  and  dances  about  the  countryside.  His  awk- 
ward, angular  form  was  a  familiar  sight  at  all  such 
festivities,  where  he  could  be  found  in  a  corner  by 
himself,  out  of  the  way,  his  head  cocked  to  one  side, 
eyes  gazing  up  at  the  ceiling,  and  an  idiotic  smile  on 
his  face,  fiddling  as  if  his  life  depended  on  it.  If 
the  dancers  had  been  as  tireless  as  Simon,  they  would 
never  have  stopped  to  rest,  for  he  ran  on  from  one 
tune  to  another  without  the  slightest  intermission; 
indeed,  the  only  times  he  paused  at  all  would  come 


118  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS* 

right  in  the  middle  of  the  piece,  and  the  dancers 
would  wait,  stranded  in  the  center  of  the  floor,  while 
he  raised  the  mug  of  ale  which  always  stood  well 
filled  at  his  elbow ;  for  they  never  allowed  him  to  go 
thirsty.  This  eccentricity  they  overlooked,  because 
Simon  was  himself  so  obliging. 

"One  night  in  the  inn-parlor,  three  gossips,  heads 
together  and  elbows  on  the  table,  were  discussing  the 
haunted  house.  Simon  joined  them,  scoffing  as 
usual. 

"  'I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,'  said  one.  'You  sleep 
the  night  there,  this  coming  New  Year's  Eve,  and 
I'll  buy  you  a  keg  of  the  best  ale  in  this  cellar!'  , 

"Simon  could  only  gasp  at  this  proposal;  but  the 
magnificence  of  the  reward  was  too  much  for  him. 
'Done!'  he  cried;  and  without  considering  the  con- 
sequences, agreed  to  pass  a  night  among  the  ghosts. 
The  only  requirement  was  that  he  should  go  to  the 
house  before  midnight,  and  remain  there  until  sun- 
rise. 

"The  weeks  passed,  and  the  wager  was  apparently 
forgotten ;  at  least,  Simon  hoped  that  it  was,  for  he 
had  repented  his  rashness.  But  it  was  not  forgot- 
ten ;  when  the  time  drew  near,  he  was  reminded  of 
it,  and  became  more  apprehensive.  Were  those 
stories  true?  He  doubted.  Only  at  night,  as  he  lay 
in  bed  sleepless,  he  felt  a  peculiar  sinking  sensation 
within  him.  It  was  noticed  that  he  became  pale  and 
worn,  was  quieter  than  usual,  and  played  more  out 


GOOD  TURN  119 

of  tune;  and  he  even  seemed  to  be  losing  his  appe- 
tite for  pies. 

"But  none  of  these  things  let  him  off;  and  when 
the  fateful  evening  came,  Simon,  with  his  beloved 
fiddle  tucked  beneath  his  arm  for  companionship, 
and  a  lantern,  appeared  at  the  inn.  They  wished 
him  good  luck  and  pleasant  dreams,  doubting  never- 
theless that  he  would  have  either;  and  the  landlord, 
a  kindly  soul,  slipped  a  cold  snack  and  a  jug  of  his 
best  ale  into  his  hand. 

"Outside  he  paused  to  look  back  upon  the  cheery 
comfort  of  the  inn-parlor.  Well,  there  was  nothing 
now  but  to  go  ahead  with  it,  he  reflected ;  and  with 
a  heavy  heart,  he  turned  his  steps  in  the  direction  of 
the  haunted  house. 

"Though  the  moon  had  not  yet  risen,  there  was 
sufficient  light  from  the  stars  for  him  to  see  his 
way.  It  was  strange,  he  thought,  how  familiar  ob- 
jects which  he  had  never  particularly  noted  before, 
now  had  a  friendly  look,  with  the  whiteness  of  the 
frost  upon  them.  Simon  walked  fast,  as  if  to  keep 
up  both  his  circulation  and  his  courage,  and  his  step 
sounded  crisply  upon  the  hard  dirt  road. 

"When  he  was  abreast  of  the  house,  he  hesitated. 
The  moon,  mounting  above  the  treetops,  was  shining 
upon  the  windows.  There  was  no  sound,  no  move- 
ment, from  within.  Breathless,  he  entered.  His 
own  footsteps  echoed  and  re-echoed  about  the  bare, 
vault-like  hall,  emphasizing  its  emptiness.  He  closed 


120  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

the  door  behind  him,  made  a  light  in  his  lantern, 
and  whistling  loudly  to  keep  up  his  courage,  entered 
the  living-hall.  The  air  was  damp  and  chilly;  his 
breath  came  like  smoke  from  his  nostrils.  Setting 
his  lantern  upon  the  floor,  he  crossed  to  the  fire- 
place and  tossed  in  fagots  and  logs  from  the  supply 
which  was  still  there.  The  merry  crackle  of  the 
burning  logs,  and  the  warmth  and  light  of  the  fire 
cheered  him,  somewhat;  and  he  attacked  the  jug  and 
the  meat-pie  provided  by  the  thoughtful  landlord. 
Revived  by  the  food,  he  lit  his  pipe,  and  taking  up 
his  violin,  commenced  to  play.  He  went  over  all  the 
tunes  he  knew,  played  them  in  different  keys  and 
with  variations,  to  while  away  the  evening;  and 
every  time  he  felt  his  courage  deserting  him  he 
turned  to  his  jug  for  moral  support.  As  you  can 
guess,  he  did  this  pretty  frequently  until,  just  as  he 
was  draining  the  last  drop,  he  heard  a  door  bang 
somewhere  upstairs,  and  a  rustling  in  the  hall  above 
him.  Almost  afraid  to  breathe,  he  sat  there  waiting 
for  a  recurrence  of  the  sound.  Everything  was 
perfectly  still  except  the  burning  logs  in  the  fire- 
place. After  a  while  Simon  began  to  fancy  that  he 
had  not  really  heard  anything,  but  that  his  over- 
wrought nerves  were  playing  a  trick  upon  him ;  so  he 
rose,  tiptoed  across  the  room  and  stood  back  in  the 
shadows  of  the  great  curving  stairway,  listening. 
Again  he  heard  sounds  above  him,  more  rustling, 
and  footsteps  this  time.  A  chill  passed  over  him 


GOOD  TURN  121 

and  the  blood  froze  in  his  veins;  at  every  fresh 
noise  he  felt  as  if  a  million  pins  were  pricking  his 
scalp.  But  nothing  happened,  and  when  the  sounds 
had  apparently  ceased,  he  waited  where  he  was, 
leaning  against  the  stairway,  so  paralyzed  with  fear 
that  he  could  not  move  from  the  spot. 

"He  remained  thus,  listening,  while  the  evening 
wore  away.  In  spite  of  his  fear  Simon  became 
drowsy.  The  wind  outside  had  risen,  and  was  rat- 
tling the  shutters  and  roaring  in  the  chimney,  caus- 
ing the  fire  to  brighten  and  burst  into  a  feeble  flame. 
Then  a  wonderful  thing  happened!  The  great  hall 
suddenly  became  ablaze  with  the  light  of  hundreds 
of  candles.  In  wonder  Simon  raised  his  head  and 
saw  a  stately  procession  of  men  and  women,  fully 
fifty  couples,  arm-in-arm  descending  the  stairs. 
They  wore  beautiful  clothing — not  a  bit  like  the 
people  in  the  village — but  such  as  Simon  had  never 
seen  before,  except  in  pictures.  He  who  was  ap- 
parently the  host  strode  over  to  the  fire  and  kicked 
the  logs  into  a  blaze,  while  others  gathered  about  it 
to  warm  their  hands.  Simon  thought  the  scene  a 
grand  sight,  with  their  lace  ruffles,  knee-breeches, 
wigs,  and  buckled  shoes ;  and  he  was  lost  in  admira- 
tion of  the  women,  with  their  powdered  hair  and 
white  shoulders,  their  jewels,  and  their  bright  eyes 
which  shone  so  coquettishly  above  their  fans.  If 
these  were  ghosts,  he  reflected,  they  were  very  gal- 
lant ones,  and  good  to  look  at ;  he  was  beginning  to 


122  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

be  glad  he  had  come  when  the  host  suddenly  clapped 
his  hands  together,  and  looking  his  way,  ordered  the 
music  to  begin.  There  seemed  nothing  out  of  the 
way  in  all  this  to  Simon  as  he  tucked  his  fiddle  be- 
neath his  chin,  and  drawing  the  bow  across  the 
strings,  commenced  playing  a  waltz.  Partners  were 
chosen,  and  the  dancing  began.  Simon,  as  usual, 
went  from  one  tune  to  another,  but  these  people 
never  tired;  all  night  long  the  dancing  continued; 
and  when  Simon,  weary  and  thirsty,  paused  from 
habit  to  reach  for  the  mug  of  ale  which  was  not  at 
his  elbow,  the  host  glared  at  him  so  furiously  that  he 
went  on  playing  more  frantically  than  ever.  Faster 
and  faster  the  mad  phantoms  danced,  swirling 
around  and  around  the  room;  faster  and  faster  he 
fiddled,  till  his  arm  ached  and  his  back  felt  broken ; 
and  just  as  the  revel  had  reached  the  highest  pitch 
and  the  fiddle  was  squeaking  its  loudest,  the  stair- 
way against  which  he  was  leaning  seemed  to  give 
way,  and  Simon  fell  with  a  crash.  Dazed  and 
bruised  from  the  fall,  he  sat  up;  the  phantoms  had 
vanished,  the  lantern  was  out,  and  the  fire  had 
burned  down  and  was  casting  flickering  shadows 
about  the  walls.  In  growing  horror,  Simon  ran 
screaming  from  the  house,  and  down  the  road  to  the 
inn  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him.  He  burst 
in  upon  them,  his  fiddle  clutched  tightly  in  one  hand, 
the  picture  of  terror. 

"Of  course,  his  story  was  greeted  with  knowing 


GOOD  TURN  123 

looks  and  sly  winks  behind  his  back ;  and  he  told  it 
to  all  who  would  listen.  He  continued  to  fiddle 
about  the  village  as  he  had  done  before,  but  he  was 
never  quite  the  same  after  that  adventure;  the 
haunted  house  seemed  to  have  a  fascination  for  him, 
and  it  was  noticed  that  he  hung  about  it  frequently, 
though  he  never  entered.  And  when  he  announced 
his  intention  of  spending  the  next  New  Year's  Eve 
with  the  phantoms,  the  people  knew  he  was  crazy 
and  urged  him  not  to  do  so.  But  he  could  not  resist ; 
early  in  the  evening  of  that  last  day  of  the  year,  he 
was  seen  making  his  way  towards  the  haunted  house, 
his  fiddle  beneath  his  arm. 
"He  never  came  back !" 


124  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   DINNER-DANCE 

"AND  I  thought  all  along  that  Miss  Phillips  didn't 
care!" 

Marjorie  made  the  remark  softly,  almost  as  if  she 
were  talking  to  herself  instead  of  to  Lily,  as  the 
girls  sat  together  in  their  room  crocheting  after 
supper.  All  the  Scouts  had  pledged  the  hour  of 
seven  to  eight  in  the  evening,  unless  something  un- 
usual was  going  on,  to  work  for  the  bazaar. 

"Didn't  care  about  what?"  asked  Lily.     "Men?" 

Marjorie  laughed.  "No,  not  that.  I  mean  about 
Frieda's  being  lost." 

"Yes,  I  thought  it  was  funny,  too,  though,  of 
course,  I  didn't  expect  her  to  throw  up  her  job  and 
go  on  an  aimless  sort  of  journey  to  find  her.  Miss 
Phillips  has  too  much  good  sense  for  anything  wild 
like  that." 

"She  has  done  the  wisest  thing  possible  by  using 
that  private  detective,"  continued  Marjorie;  "but 
somehow,  Lil,  I  don't  think  she'll  ever  find  her.  I 
think  it's  sort  of  up  to  us." 


GOOD  TURN  125 

"But  how?" 

"That  I  don't  know,  except  to  keep  our  eyes 
open." 

"Oh,  Marj !"  exclaimed  Lily,  interrupting  her,  and 
changing  the  subject.  "Do  you  'spose  the  mail's 
been  sorted  ?  It  was  late  to-night,  you  know." 

"What  makes  you  so  anxious?"  teased  Marjorie. 
"Hearing  from  Dick  Roberts?" 

"Now  Marj— don't  be  silly!" 

"But  you  are  expecting  something?" 

Lily  toyed  with  her  crochet  needle,  pulling  out  a 
long  loop  of  the  wool  and  holding  it  over  her  finger. 
The  baby's  sweater  that  she  was  making  was  almost 
finished. 

"Guess  I  will  run  down  to  the  office,"  she  said, 
putting  her  work  upon  the  table ;  "I'll  be  right  back." 

By  the  time  she  returned  Marjorie  had  forgotten 
all  about  the  mail;  her  thoughts  were  again  with 
Frieda,  imagining  all  sorts  of  horrors  for  the  igno- 
rant, unresourceful  girl,  in  some  strange  place. 

"Three  letters!"  cried  Lily,  triumphantly.  "I 
didn't  open  mine  either ;  I  waited  for  you !" 

Marj  one's  eyes  brightened ;  mail  was  always  wel- 
come. 

"You  have  to  guess  the  post-mark,  or  who  it's 
from!"  teased  Lily,  holding  her  hand  over  the  let- 
ter. , 

"Princeton?"  asked  Marjorie,  bending  over  her 
crochet  to  hide  a  blush. 


126  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Nope!" 

Lily  tossed  the  missile  into  the  other  girl's  lap,  for 
she  was  too  eager  to  open  her  own  two  letters  to 
cause  any  further  delay.  She  and  Marjorie  had 
each  received  square,  khaki-colored  envelopes,  with 
the  well-known  fleur-de-lis  on  the  flap.  They  were 
from  the  Boy  Scouts. 

"A  dance!"  cried  Marjorie,  jumping  up  in  glee, 
and  dropping  her  crochet  upon  the  floor.  "In  honor 
of  the  hockey  team !" 

"Isn't  it  great,  Marj?     Who's  inviting  you?" 

"David  Conner!    Who's  your  partner?" 

"Dick!" 

"Of  course  he  is!    I  needn't  have  asked." 

"John  Hadley  had  better  look  out,"  remarked 
Lily;  "or  somebody  else  will  have  his  girl." 

"I'm  not  anybody's  girl!"  protested  Marjorie,  in- 
dignantly. And  then,  demurely — "Only  father's!" 

"A  dinner-dance!"  repeated  Lily,  reading  her  in- 
vitation for  the  third  time.  "Marj,  have  you  ever 
been  to  one  ?" 

"Never!" 

"How  do  you  suppose  they  got  Miss  Allen's  per- 
mission?" 

"Oh,  Miss  Phillips  saw  to  that !  She  can  get  any- 
thing she  wants!"  returned  Marjorie. 

"I  hope  we  beat  Miss  Martin's  team,  or  we'll  feel 
rather  blue.  And  think  of  so  much  in  one  day — a 
hockey  game  with  them,  and  a  dinner  and  a  dance 


GOOD  TURN  127 

with  the  Boy  Scouts !  And  all  the  day  before  we  go 
home  for  Thanksgiving!" 

"Who's  your  other  letter  from,  Lil  ?"  asked  Mar- 
jorie,  noticing  the  envelope  unopened  on  the  table. 

"Oh,  I  forgot !  And  I  ought  to  be  ashamed.  It's 
from  mama." 

She  read  a  few  lines  and  her  face  lighted  up  hap- 
pily. "Marj,"  she  said,  looking  up  shyly,  "mama 
and  papa  want  you  to  spend  the  Thanksgiving  holi- 
days with  us.  Can  you?  Oh,  please " 

Marjorie  threw  her  arms  about  Lily,  squeezing 
her  for  joy. 

"I'd  love  to !  I've  never  been  in  New  York.  Oh, 
if  father  and  mother  will  only  let  me !" 

"We'll  go  to  the  theater,  and  ride  on  the  bus — 
and  maybe  invite  John  and  Dick  there  for  dinner — 
and — and !" 

Marjorie  let  go  of  her  room-mate,  and  went  over 
to  her  desk.  "I'm  going  to  write  home  this  very 
minute,"  she  announced,  and  seated  herself  to  begin 
the  task. 

The  Boy  Scouts  had  included  thirteen  girls  of  the 
hockey  squad  in  their  invitation,  and  Miss  Phillips, 
of  course.  Twelve  of  these  girls  were  Girl  Scouts; 
Alice  Endicott,  who  had  not  yet  made  up  her  chem- 
istry laboratory  work,  was  still  outside  of  Pansy 
troop. 

The  hockey  game,  the  dinner-dance,  and  the  holi- 
day preparations  made  the  very  air  seem  to  tingle 


128  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

with  excitement  and  anticipation.  When  the  day 
came,  Marjorie  made  no  attempt  to  reserve  her 
energy  for  the  later  events;  she  sang  and  danced 
about  all  morning  with  happiness.  This  year  she 
was  well  prepared  to  meet  Miss  Martin's  team,  not 
only  individually,  for  she  was  in  good  practice  and 
excellent  physical  trim  herself,  but  as  captain  of  her 
own  team,  she  felt  confident  of  her  players. 

The  girls  were  out  on  the  field  early,  practicing 
"passes,"  and  warming  up  for  the  game.  Everyone 
on  the  team  expected  to  play ;  but  Helen  Stewart  and 
Barbara  Hill,  besides  one  or  two  other  moderately 
good  players,  came  in  readiness  to  substitute  should 
they  be  needed. 

As  the  team  from  Miss  Martin's  approached  the 
field,  the  critical  observer  could  mark  the  difference 
between  these  girls  and  those  from  the  home  team. 
Long  hikes,  sensible  clothing  and  food,  and  two 
weeks  at  the  Scout  camp  with  exposure  to  all  kinds 
of  weather,  had  hardened  Miss  Allen's  girls  and 
added  something  almost  boyish  to  their  bearing. 
And  in  Marjorie  they  had  an  excellent  captain,  re- 
sourceful and  confident  of  success,  whose  calm  as- 
surance inspired  them. 

From  the  opening  stroke  when  Marjorie,  the  cen- 
ter forward,  sent  the  ball  at  one  bound  across  the 
field  to  her  left  forward,  who  dodged  the  opposing 
half-back,  the  game  seemed  almost  a  walk-over  for 
Miss  Allen's  girls.  Only  once  did  Miss  Martin's 


GOOD  TURN  129 

side  make  a  goal,  and  then  Lily  Andrews  took  all 
the  blame  for  it  upon  herself. 

"I  thought  it  was  too  easy,"  she  aftenvard  ex- 
plained to  Marjorie,  "and  I  didn't  work  hard 
enough.  It  served  me  right,  but  I'm  sorry  for  the 
team." 

At  the  end  of  the  first  half,  with  the  score  six  to 
two  in  their  favor,  Miss  Phillips  decided  to  give 
both  the  regular  substitutes  a  chance.  But  instead  of 
making  it  easier  for  the  opponents,  it  became  more 
difficult,  for  Helen  Stewart  had  always  been  a  good 
player,  and  Barbara  Hill,  who  had  successful 
streaks,  seemed  to  be  particularly  lucky.  It  was  an 
easy  victory  for  Miss  Allen's  girls;  the  final  score 
was  fourteen  to  two. 

"This  decides  me !"  exclaimed  Miss  Martin,  after 
she  had  congratulated  Miss  Phillips  and  her  team. 
"Now  I  am  convinced  of  the  value  of  a  Girl  Scout 
troop." 

"If  you'd  see  our  reports,  you'd  be  still  more  con- 
vinced," remarked  Miss  Allen,  coming  up  behind 
her,  and  overhearing  the  remark. 

"When  can  you  come  over  and  demonstrate?" 
pursued  the  visitor,  turning  again  to  the  gym  teacher. 

"Better  wait  till  after  Christmas,  hadn't  we?"  sug- 
gested Miss  Phillips.  "Does  that  suit  you?" 

"Perfectly,"  replied  the  other. 

Marjorie  and  Lily  lingered  only  long  enough  to 


130  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

avoid  being  rude  to  their  guests,  and  then  hurried 
off  to  their  room  to  prepare  for  the  party. 

"Isn't  it  fun  to  be  able  to  wear  something  besides 
the  Scout  uniform?"  remarked  Lily,  as  she  removed 
the  muslin  with  which  her  pink  canton-crepe  was 
covered.  "I  don't  believe  the  Boy  Scouts  have  ever 
seen  me  in  anything  else!  And  I'm  going  to  curl 
my  hair." 

Marjorie  smiled ;  Lily  certainly  did  look  better  in 
pretty  dresses,  for  she  was  not  the  type  of  girl  who 
could  wear  a  uniform  to  advantage. 

They  dressed  leisurely,  and  by  half-past  five  were 
ready  to  go  over  to  the  gymnasium,  where  they  were 
to  meet  the  other  girls.  They  arrived  early,  but 
Ruth  and  Mae  and  several  others  were  already  there. 

"It  doesn't  seem  like  an  athletic  event,"  remarked 
Ruth,  glancing  at  the  dainty  dresses  of  the  girls.  "It 
seems  more  like  a  musical  comedy." 

"And  that  reminds  me,"  said  Miss  Phillips,  who 
had  just  come  in,  charming  in  a  gray  georgette  with 
a  lavender  girdle,  and  wearing  a  bouquet  of  violets, 
"that  reminds  me  that  I  would  like  the  Scouts  to 
give  a  sort  of  musical  comedy  in  the  spring." 

"Great!"  cried  Ruth.  She  had  a  passably  good 
voice,  and  she  knew  it — also,  she  knew  that  Marjorie 
could  scarcely  carry  a  tune. 

By  this  time  everyone  had  arrived,  and  they  all 
started  for  the  tea-room  in  the  village  which  the 
boys  had  obtained  for  the  occasion.  Marjorie  was 


GOOD  TURN  131 

curious  to  know  who  gave  Miss  Phillips  her  violets, 
but  not  daring  to  tease  her,  she  tried  to  content  her- 
self by  whispering  about  it  to  Lily. 

If  the  girls,  in  their  pretty  party  dresses,  made  a 
sensation  with  the  boys,  the  latter,  in  their  turn,  ap- 
peared very  different  in  their  neat,  dark  suits  to  the 
girls,  who  were  so  accustomed  to  seeing  them  in  their 
official  uniforms.  There  were  only  thirteen  boys 
present,  who  had  been  chosen  according  to  their 
standing,  and  Mr.  Remington,  the  Scoutmaster. 

The  girls  descended  the  stairs,  after  leaving  their 
wraps  in  the  dressing  room,  and  each  boy  sought  his 
own  particular  partner  to  escort  her  to  the  dining- 
room.  Two  long  tables,  each  seating  fourteen  per- 
sons, were  beautifully  decorated  with  yellow  crepe- 
paper,  favors,  and  large  bunches  of  chrysanthemums 
in  the  center.  The  lights,  too,  were  covered  with 
yellow  paper. 

"It's  lovely!"  cried  Marjorie  with  delight.  "And 
hockey  season's  over,  so  we  can  just  eat  and  eat!" 

It  was  a  typical  Thanksgiving  dinner,  with  turkey 
and  brown  gravy,  and  cranberry  sauce.  There  was 
only  a  simple  salad  but  everybody  was  expected  to 
eat  both  mince  pie  and  ice-cream,  and  to  finish  with 
nuts,  raisins  and  candy. 

"I'll  never  be  able  to  dance  a  step,"  sighed  Lily  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  feast,  as  she  languidly  stirred 
her  coffee. 


132  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"We're  not  going  to,   for  a  while,"  answered 
David.    "For  we  have  other  entertainment." 

"What?"  asked  Ruth,  overhearing  the  conversa- 
tion, and  always  eager  for  novelty. 

"A  fortune  teller !"  he  replied.  "She  is  going  to 
tell  all  the  girls'  fortunes !" 

Marjorie  clapped  her  hands.  "What  fun!  Noth- 
ing could  possibly  be  nicer,"  she  said,  happily. 

"And  will  she  answer  questions  ?"  asked  Lily. 

"One  question  for  each  girl !"  said  Dick. 

"I  know  what  mine  will  be  !"•  declared  Marjorie, 
without  the  least  hesitation. 

"  'Does  Princeton  miss  me  ?'  "  teased  Ruth. 

"Wrong  again,  Ruth,"  said  Marjorie,  shaking  her 
head. 

The  fortune  teller,  a  real  gypsy,  arrived  in  a  few 
moments,  and  the  party  adjourned  to  the  dance  room 
to  listen.  Sitting  down  upon  the  floor  near  the  fire- 
place, she  produced  a  soiled  pack  of  cards;  then,  ad- 
dressing the  girls  one  by  one,  she  painted  glorious 
futures  for  them,  with  ocean  trips,  "dark"  or 
"blond"  men,  letters,  and  inheritances.  It  was  all 
good  fun,  and  most  of  the  girls  did  not  take  her 
seriously.  Their  favorite  question  was,  of  course, 
"Will  I  get  married?"  to  which  the  woman  invari- 
ably answered  "Yes" — or,  sometimes,  "Twice!" 

But  Marjorie's  question  was  a  little  different. 

"Where  is  Frieda  Hammer?"  She  asked  it  seri- 
ously, trembling  in  spite  of  herself. 


GOOD  TURN  133 

The  fortune  teller  half  closed  her  eyes,  and  there 
was  intense  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  she  replied 
slowly, 

"New  York!" 

"Oh,  thank  you!"  cried  Marjorie,  believing  in 
spite  of  her  better  judgment.  "And  we'll  find  her, 
Lil !"  she  added,  glancing  significantly  at  her  room- 
mate. 

Around  nine  o'clock  the  dancing  began,  David 
Conner  had  naturally  arranged  Marjorie's  program 
to  give  himself  the  first  dance. 

"Did  you  know  Jack  invited  me  home  with  him 
for  Thanksgiving?"  he  asked,  watching  her  closely, 
hoping  to  see  an  expression  of  pleasure  cross  her 
face. 

But  her  eyes  did  not  change. 

"That's  nice,"  she  replied.  "I'm  sorry  I  won't  be 
there — I've  accepted  an  invitation  to  go  home  with 
my  room-mate." 

David  looked  disappointed.  Did  Marjorie  still 
care  for  John  Hadley,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
boys?  He  could  not  help  wondering  about  it,  and, 
somehow,  felt  vaguely  jealous. 

The  hour  and  a  half  of  dancing  passed  all  too 
quickly,  and  the  girls  were  summoned  by  Miss  Phil- 
lips to  get  their  wraps.  As  the  boys  joined  them  to 
accompany  them  back  to  school,  David  sought  Mar- 
jorie, hoping  to  have  her  to  himself.  But  he  did  not 
find  her  conversation  very  satisfactory,  for  her  mind 


134  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

seemed  far  away,  and  he  was  relieved  to  have  Lily 
and  Dick  join  them. 

Marjorie  had  enjoyed  her  evening,  but  now  she 
was  eager  to  be  alone  with  Lily,  to  discuss,  in  pri- 
vate, what  the  fortune  teller  had  said  about  Frieda's 
whereabouts. 

"And  I  really  can't  help  attaching  some  impor- 
tance to  what  she  said,"  she  remarked,  when  the 
girls  were  finally  alone.  "Oh,  Lil,"  she  added,  "just 
suppose  we  should  find  her!  This  very  week,  per- 
haps!" 

"But  New  York's  a  big  place,  Marj !"  observed 
Lily,  rubbing  her  eyes,  sleepily.  "So  don't  get  your 
hopes  too  high!" 


GOOD  TURN  185 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   THANKSGIVING   HOLIDAYS 

SEVEN  o'clock  came  all  too  soon  for  Marjorie 
and  Lily,  as  they  opened  their  eyes  at  the  sound  of 
the  rising  bell. 

"Don't  you  wish  we  could  stay  in  bed?"  yawned 
Marjorie,  glancing  at  the  clock. 

"We  can  to-morrow;  mama  will  let  us  have 
breakfast  in  bed  every  single  morning,  if  we  like." 

"Oh,  Lil,  that  sounds  too  good  to  be  true !  I  know 
we'll  have  a  wonderful  time." 

There  were  only  three  hours  of  classes;  after  an 
early  luncheon,  school  was  dismissed.  Everybody 
took  the  one-o'clock  train  for  home. 

"Frieda  saved  me  the  trouble  of  expressing  my 
canoe  home,"  remarked  Marjorie,  when  the  girls 
were  comfortably  seated  together  in  the  train.  "But 
how  I  wish  I'd  find  it — and  her,  too !" 

"Maybe  we  shall,"  said  Lily.  "Don't  forget  the 
fortuneteller!" 

"But  New  York's  pretty  big,  isn't  it?"     Having 


136  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

lived  all  of  her  life  in  a  small  town,  Marjorie  had 
only  a  vague  idea  of  the  size  of  the  great  city. 

Lily  laughed  good-naturedly.  "Wait  till  you  see 
it,"  she  said.  "It's  simply  tremendous — and  so 
crowded  and  confusing." 

"Poor  Frieda!"  sighed  Marjorie. 

Mrs.  Andrews's  chauffeur  met  the  train,  bringing 
the  former's  regrets  at  not  being  present  in  person. 

"Mama's  out  so  much,"  explained  Lily.  "Teas 
and  charity  work,  you  know." 

As  Marjorie  entered  the  big  limousine,  she  real- 
ized that  she  had  never  ridden  in  so  luxurious  a  car 
before.  She  glanced  at  the  soft  upholstery,  the  bou- 
quet of  real  flowers,  and  felt  the  warmth  of  the  arti- 
ficial heat  Lily's  parents  were  obviously  rich,  al- 
though the  girl  evidently  gave  it  little  thought  now. 
But  Marjorie  remembered  how  impressed  her  room- 
mate had  been  with  the  fact  when  she  entered  Miss 
Allen's,  and  suddenly  she  decided  that,  had  she 
known  all  this,  she  would  not  have  blamed  her  so 
severely. 

Then  the  streets  claimed  her  attention.  They 
were  filled  with  traffic  of  all  kinds,  which  she 
watched  silently.  Her  thoughts  flew  to  Frieda  Ham- 
mer; she  wondered  what  were  her  impressions  as 
she  entered  this  great,  noisy  confusion,  that  is  called 
New  York.  How  would  she  feel  herself,  if  she  had 
come  all  alone — with  no  Lily  to  direct  her,  no  car  to 
meet  her,  no  friends  to  entertain  her?  Alone,  with 


GOOD  TURN  137 

little  or  no  money  in  her  purse,  and  no  qualifications 
to  fit  her  for  work !  She  shuddered  at  the  very  idea ; 
a  sort  of  despair  seized  her,  so  that  for  the  instant 
she  suffered  vicariously  as  acutely  as  if  she  were  the 
other  girl  in  the  situation. 

But  Lily's  voice  brought  her  back  to  reality. 

"That  was  the  Grand  Central  Station,  where  we 
came  in,"  explained  the  New  York  girl.  "And  this 
is  Sixth  Avenue." 

"And  you  live  in  an  apartment,  too,  don't  you, 
Lil?"  asked  Marjorie,  her  gaze  resting  upon  her 
companion.  "Do  you  know,  I've  never  been  in  an 
apartment !" 

"It's  an  apartment-hotel,"  corrected  Lily.  "We 
don't  even  get  our  own  meals !" 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  girls  were  sitting  in  Lily's 
dainty  boudoir,  sipping  chocolate  and  enjoying  a 
glorious  hour  of  pure  idleness. 

"Are  we  doing  anything  to-night,  Lil?"  asked 
Marjorie,  leaning  back  contentedly  against  the  cush- 
ions on  the  window  seat.  "Not  that  I  think  we  need 

to "  she  hastened  to  add,  lest  her  hostess  might 

attribute  her  remark  to  impoliteness. 

"Yes,  we're  going  to  the  theater,"  replied  Lily, 
laughingly.  "It's  a  musical  comedy.  I  hope  you  will 
like  it." 

"I'm  sure  I  will.  Do  you  know,  Lil,  I've  never 
been  in  a  real  theater  in  my  life!"  She  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  blurted  out,  unexpectedly,  "Sup- 


138  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

pose  Frieda  should  be  a  chorus  girl !  Do  you  think 
we'd  recognize  her,  with  all  her  paint  and  powder, 
if  she  were?" 

Lily  smiled  at  the  other's  simplicity.  Evidently 
Marjorie  had  no  conception  of  the  great  number  of 
theaters  in  New  York,  or  of  the  difficulty,  for  a 
novice,  in  obtaining  a  part  in  a  show.  And  the  idea 
of  Frieda  Hammer — rude,  awkward,  and  uncouth — 
on  the  stage,  was  absolutely  grotesque. 

"I  hardly  think  she'd  be  able  to  get  the  job,  Marj," 
she  replied,  succeeding  in  hiding  her  amusement. 
But  in  order  to  forestall  any  more  such  remarks,  she 
decided  to  change  the  subject. 

"We're  going  to  the  game  to-morrow,"  she  an- 
nounced, "with  papa  and  mama,  and " 

But  Marjorie  was  only  politely  enthusiastic. 

"We  surely  won't  see  Frieda  there,"  she  remarked. 
"Isn't  it  dreadfully  expensive?" 

"Not  only  that,  but  she  wouldn't  be  interested. 
Of  course,  Frieda  Hammer  wouldn't  understand 
football !  But  I'll  tell  you  who  will  be  there !" 

"Who?" 

"Guess!" 

"The  boys?" 

"Yes;  John  Hadley  and  Dick  Roberts!" 

"Oh,  I'm  awfully  glad !"  exclaimed  Marjorie.  "I 
haven't  seen  John  for  ages." 

And  in  the  conversation  that  followed,  the  Girl 
Scouts'  runaway  ward  was  forgotten. 


GOOD  TURN  139 

Thanksgiving  day  was  bright  and  clear,  and  just 
cold  enough  to  give  a  bracing  tingle  to  the  air.  The 
boys  arrived  only  a  few  minutes  before  the  time  to 
start  for  the  game,  and  among  so  many  people,  Mar- 
jorie  and  John  exchanged  only  the  most  formal 
greetings. 

During  the  automobile  ride,  and  later  at  the  game, 
it  seemed  to  Marjorie  that  John  was  unusually  quiet. 
Perhaps,  she  decided,  it  was  because  he  was  with 
strangers, — or  perhaps  it  was  because  he  had 
changed.  She  knew  that  he  was  working  his  way 
through  college,  and  she  wondered  whether  the  re- 
sponsibility was  weighing  him  down.  Or  perhaps, 
she  thought,  he  was  no  longer  interested  in  so  youth- 
ful a  person  as  herself. 

But  to  John  Hadley,  Marjorie  Wilkinson  was  the 
same  merry,  charming  girl  who  continued  to  hold 
first  place  in  his  affections. 

Mrs.  Andrews  invited  the  boys  to  dinner  after  the 
game,  and  they  accepted  gladly.  It  was  not  until 
after  the  meal  was  over,  and  Marjorie  and  John 
were  dancing  in  the  hotel  ball-room  that  the  girl  lost 
her  shyness  and  felt  herself  back  again  on  the  old 
familiar  ground  with  him.  , 

"May  I  come  to  see  you  at  Christmas  time?"  he 
whispered,  as  they  glided  across  the  floor. 

"But  I'm  not  sure  that  I'll  be  home,"  replied  Mar- 
jorie, thinking  of  Frieda  Hammer,  and  wondering 


140  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS5 

whether  she  might  not  try  to  trace  her  again  at  that 
time,  if  she  failed  now. 

"Are  you  going  far  away?"  he  pursued,  in  a  woe- 
ful tone. 

"I  don't  know.    But  you  can  write!" 

The  young  people  danced  until  the  first  intermis- 
sion, when  Mrs.  Andrews  rose  to  go,  and  the  girls, 
after  saying  good-bye  to  the  boys,  accompanied  her 
to  the  apartment. 

"I  looked  at  every  waitress  in  the  dining-room," 
said  Marjorie,  when  she  and  Lily  were  alone  in  their 
room,  "and  I  tried  to  see  all  the  people  I  could  on 
the  streets  to-day,  but  none  of  them  looked  like 
Frieda!" 

"Oh,  Marj!  You're  hopeless!"  replied  Lily,  in 
exasperation.  "Here  I  expected  you  to  rave  about 
John  Hadley,  or  at  least  the  football  game,  and  the 
very  minute  he's  gone,  you  begin  on  that  girl  again !" 

"Do  I  bore  you,  Lil?  Or  do  I  seem  unapprecia- 
tive?"  asked  Marjorie,  penitently. 

"No,  you  old  dear !"  laughed  Lily,  relenting.  "By 
the  way,  what  is  it  you  want  to  do  to-morrow  ?" 

"Go  shopping!"  replied  Marjorie  happily,  for  the 
idea  of  the  novel  experience  was  pleasing  to  her. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  given  her  daughter  some 
money  with  which  to  go  shopping,  and  the  girls 
planned  their  trip  for  Friday.  Mrs.  Andrews  de- 
cided to  send  the  chauffeur  with  them,  allowing  them 
to  go  otherwise  unaccompanied,  for  she  knew  how 


GOOD  TURN  141 

much  pleasure  it  would  afford  them  to  go  alone. 
Early  after  lunch  the  following  day,  the  girls 
started  on  their  expedition.  After  they  left  the  car 
and  entered  the  shops,  Marjorie  wanted  to  proceed 
slowly,  stopping  everywhere  to  look  at  displays  and 
to  examine  the  beautiful  things  spread  alluringly  be- 
fore their  eyes.  She  really  bought  little ;  the  experi- 
ence was  so  new  to  her  that  she  could  scarcely  make 
up  her  mind  what  to  choose. 

At  quarter  after  four  Lily  looked  at  her  watch, 
"I'm  dead,  Marj !"  she  announced.    "Let's  go  and 
get  some  hot  chocolate,  and  then  go  home." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Marjorie  reluctantly.    "But  I 
sort  of  hate  to  leave.    By  the  way,  Lil,  have  you  been 
noticing  the  salesgirls?" 
"Not 'specially.    Why?" 
"I  thought  one  of  them  might  be  Frieda." 
"If  you  mention  Frieda  Hammer  again,"  threat- 
ened Lily,  "when  I  get  back  to  school,  I'll  go  poison 
that  fortune  teller  for  getting  you  so  worked  up." 

"Oh,  please  don't,  Lil!"  begged  Marjorie,  good- 
naturedly. 

She  followed  her  hostess  out  of  the  brilliantly 
lighted  department  store,  across  the  street,  and  into 
a  cozy,  softly  lighted  tea-room.  The  contrast  be- 
tween the  glaring,  noisy  shops  and  this  quiet,,  restful 
retreat  worked  wonders  with  the  tired  girls.  They 
seemed  almost  immediately  to  imbibe  the  peaceful 
atmosphere,  and  to  become  refreshed. 


142  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"It's  lovely!"  exclaimed  Marjorie,  refusing  even 
to  look  at  the  menu.  "Anything  you  order  will  suit 
me." 

Although  Marjorie  had  decided  not  to  plague  Lily 
again  with  the  mention  of  Frieda,  she  had  by  no 
means  forgotten  her.  Accordingly,  she  followed  the 
proceeding  she  had  adopted  upon  every  occasion 
since  she  had  entered  New  York;  she  looked  care- 
fully at  every  young  girl  she  saw,  hoping  that  it 
might  prove  to  be  Frieda. 

As  soon  as  her  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the 
dim  light,  she  peered  eagerly, — almost  rudely,  she 
was  afraid — into  the  faces  of  the  waitresses.  Sud- 
denly, her  heart  stood  still;  at  the  far  corner,  near 
the  swinging  door  leading  to  the  kitchen,  stood  a 
girl  bearing  a  striking  resemblance  to  Frieda !  Could 
Marjorie  be  dreaming — or  was  it  possible  that  the 
runaway  had  a  double?  She  dared  not  trust  her 
own  eyes. 

"Look,  Lil!"  she  whispered.  "Could  that  be 
Frieda,  there?" 

Lily  followed  the  direction  indicated  by  Marjorie, 
and  saw  a  slim  girl  in  black,  wearing  a  waitress's 
cap  and  apron.  The  girl  was  neat,  and  her  hair  was 
tidy ;  indeed,  one  would  have  to  stretch  the  imagina- 
tion to  picture  her  as  the  one  of  the  troop's  adoption. 
And  yet  her  features — and  something  about  her 
bearing  were  decidedly  like  Frieda. 

"Oh,  Frieda  Hammer  would  never  get  a  job  in  a 


GOOD  TURN  143 

place  like  this,"  remarked  Lily,  discouragingly. 
"They  only  employ  refined  girls  here !" 

Still  not  daunted,  however,  Marjorie  half  rose 
from  her  seat,  but  just  at  that  moment  the  waitress 
in  question  disappeared  with  a  tray  of  dishes. 

Lily  gave  her  order  for  hot  chocolate  with 
whipped  cream,  and  fancy  cakes,  to  the  waitress  who 
stood  at  their  table.  "Does  that  suit  you,  Marj?" 
she  inquired. 

"Yes,  thanks !"  replied  Marjorie ;  but  at  that  mo- 
ment she  would  have  agreed  to  corned-beef  and  cab- 
bage. She  watched  eagerly  for  the  girl  to  reappear; 
finally  she  was  rewarded  by  seeing  the  two  wait- 
resses enter  together. 

As  her  own  girl  came  towards  them,  she  leaned 
over  and  asked  earnestly, 

"Can  you  tell  me  the  name  of  the  waitress — over 
there?" 

"Jennie  Perkins,"  replied  the  girl,  quietly. 

Marjorie's  face  fell ;  she  must  be  mistaken.  Then 
an  idea  came  to  her ;  perhaps  it  was  Frieda,  under  an 
assumed  name! 

"Has  she  worked  here  long?"  pursued  Marjorie. 

"I  think  so — but  I've  only  been  here  a  week  my- 
self, and  she  was  here  when  I  came !" 

The  girl  had  disappeared  again,  and  Marjorie 
turned  reluctantly  to  her  refreshment.  She  kept 
watching  the  swinging  door,  hoping  that  the  girl 
would  reappear  and  give  her  an  opportunity  to  ques- 


144  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

tion  her.  But  she  did  not  return  before  Marjorie 
and  Lily  had  finished  their  chocolate,  so  they  were 
obliged  to  leave  the  shop,  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
ever. 

The  remaining  two  days  passed  without  further 
adventure,  and  on  Sunday  evening  they  were  back 
again  at  Miss  Allen's. 

"I  wonder  whether  the  fortune  teller  was  mis- 
taken, after  all?"  thought  Marjorie. 


GOOD  TURN  145 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   CHRISTMAS   BAZAAR 

Two  weeks  had  passed  by,  and  the  swimming 
team  had  been  chosen  during  that  time.  Four  more 
girls,  in  addition  to  Alice  Endicott,  who  was  now  a 
Scout,  were  eligible  for  Pansy  troop  and  were  to  be 
admitted  that  evening.  Three  of  them  were  fresh- 
men :  Dorothy  Whitcomb,  Gladys  Staley,  and  Mil- 
dred Cavin.  And  the  fourth  girl  was  Evelyn  Hop- 
kins. 

Miss  Phillips  called  the  meeting  to  order,  and 
then  hastened  through  the  opening  ceremony  and 
necessary  routine. 

"There  is  much  to  do  and  to  talk  about,"  she  said, 
after  the  preliminary  matters  had  been  settled,  "that 
I  feel  as  if  I  can't  talk  fast  enough.  But  I  think  we 
shall  consider  the  regular  Scout  business  first. 

"First  of  all,  I  wish  to  welcome  the  new  girls 
with  the  sincere  hope  that  they  will  soon  pass  their 
Tenderfoot  test  and  be  registered  as  regular  mem- 
bers of  Pansy  Troop.  If  they  all  do,  we  shall  then 
have  twenty-four  girls,  or  three  patrols. 


146  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Accordingly,  after  the  first  of  the  year  we  shall 
re-divide  into  three  patrols,  and  the  three  Scouts 
with  the  highest  standing — counting  the  number  of 
merit-badges,  etc. — will  be  the  three  patrol  leaders, 
and  may  choose,  in  turn,  the  members  of  their  re- 
spective patrols. 

"Next,  after  the  New  Year,  the  second-class  girls 
will  study  for  their  first-class  test ;  for  during  spring 
vacation  I  am  going  to  take  the  first  eight  girls  who 
pass  this  test  successfully,  to  Washington.  The  ex- 
penses are  to  be  provided  by  a  wealthy  friend  of  the 
troop !" 

"Who  ?"  they  all  shouted,  curious.  "Oh,  it  is  too 
wonderful!" 

But  Miss  Phillips  refused  to  reveal  the  name  of 
their  unknown  benefactor. 

"Now,  about  our  Good  Turn.  Of  course,  to- 
morrow is  the  day  of  the  bazaar,  about  which  we 
shall  go  into  detail  later;  but  now  I  want  to  discuss 
what  we  shall  do  with  the  money.  I  have  a  report 
from  Miss  Smith,  the  private  detective." 

At  these  words,  Marjorie  leaped  to  her  feet.  For- 
getful of  the  formality  of  the  occasion,  she  asked, 
excitedly, 

"Did  she  find  Frieda?" 

"Yes;  but  she  lost  her  again.  A  girl  answering 
to  her  description  was  working,  under  an  assumed 
name,  as  a  waitress  in  a  Fifth  Avenue  tea-room  in 
New  York.  But  as  soon  as  Miss  Smith  had  col- 


GOOD  TURN  147 

lected  her  facts,  and  was  reasonably  certain  that  the 
girl  was  Frieda  Hammer,  she  disappeared." 

"Oh,  Lil !"  gasped  Marjorie,  sinking  into  her  seat. 
She  could  not  even  explain  what  she  meant  to  the 
others ;  only  her  room-mate  realized  her  tremendous 
disappointment. 

"Now  I  have  not  paid  my  friend  anything  so 
far,"  continued  Miss  Phillips ;  "but  I  do  not  feel  like 
allowing  her  to  go  on  using  so  much  time  without 
remuneration,  for  she  has  to  work  to  earn  her  own 
living.  So  I  want  to  know  what  you  wish  to  do — 
drop  the  case?" 

Marjorie  was  on  her  feet  again,  instantly. 

"No,  no,  Captain!  Please,  not  that!  Can't  we 
use  the  rest  of  the  fete  money — and  add  some  from 
the  bazaar?" 

But  Ruth,  as  usual,  opposed  the  idea. 

"I  move  that  we  pay  Miss  Smith  for  her  services, 
and  then  dismiss  the  matter  for  once  and  all.  If 
Frieda  Hammer  can  get  work,  she  certainly  isn't 
suffering,  and  there  are  a  good  many  more  worthy 
channels  to  which  we  can  apply  our  money.  In  my 
opinion,  she  never  was  any  good !" 

"Is  there  a  second  to  Ruth's  motion  ?"  asked  Cap- 
tain Phillips. 

"I  second  it!"  said  Barbara  HilL 

''Any  discussion?" 

Then  Lily,  aroused  to  the  support  of  Marjorie 
rather  than  of  Frieda,  made  an  appealing  speech, 


148  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

telling  of  the  vastness  of  New  York  City,  and  its 
great  temptations.  She  mentioned  the  troop's  re- 
sponsibility toward  Frieda,  at  least  until  they  could 
get  her  back  home.  She  spoke  earnestly,  and  the 
girls  were  greatly  impressed.  Mar j one  cast  a  grate- 
ful look  in  her  direction  as  Lily  sat  down. 

The  votes  were  taken,  and  the  "nos"  carried  the 
day,  probably  rather  because  Mar  j  one  and  Lily  were 
more  popular  than  Ruth  and  Barbara,  than  because 
of  any  particular  love  on  the  part  of  the  troop  for 
Frieda.  Indeed,  most  of  the  girls  disliked  her  heart- 
ily, and  were  angry  at  her  for  stealing  Marjorie's 
canoe;  but  that  was  Marjorie's  affair,  and  if  she 
wanted  to  search  for  Frieda,  they  intended  to  stand 
back  of  her. 

The  rest  of  the  evening  was  spent  in  discussing 
the  Bazaar,  and  all  the  while  the  girls  worked  busily 
with  their  needles,  finishing  odds  and  ends  that  had 
been  left  till  the  last  minute. 

Miss  Pnillips  had  begun  with  the  senior  Scouts 
and  had  given  first  them,  and  then  the  juniors, 
charge  of  the  booths.  The  sophomores,  with  the 
single  exception  of  Marjorie  Wilkinson  and  Lily 
Andrews,  and  all  of  the  freshmen,  were  to  act  merely 
as  aids.  The  former  two  girls  had  been  assigned  the 
"Baby  Table"  for  the  simple  reason  that  there  were 
not  enough  upperclassmen  to  take  charge,  and  they, 
of  all  the  younger  girls,  appeared  most  interested. 

So  anxious  were  they  to  have  their  booth  look 


GOOD  TURN  149 

attractive,  Marjorie  and  Lily  arose  at  six  o'clock  the 
morning  of  the  bazaar,  in  order  to  decorate  it  be- 
fore breakfast  They  secured  white  tissue  paper, 
and  with  this  completely  covered  up  all  the  dark 
boards.  Here  and  there  articles  were  suspended  by 
narrow  pink  and  blue  baby  ribbon ;  and  a  great  bowl 
of  pink  roses  stood  on  one  side  of  the  counter,  while 
on  the  other  side  was  displayed  a  life-size  doll, 
dressed  in  the  most  exquisite  hand-made  layette. 
The  effect  as  a  whole  was  dainty  and  charming. 

Soon  after  breakfast  the  other  booths — for  candy, 
sandwiches  and  ice-cream,  household  goods,  em- 
broidery, basketry,  toys,  and  what  not, — were  all 
arranged,  and  Miss  Phillips  threw  open  the  doors. 
Dressed  in  their  neat  khaki  uniforms,  with  spotless 
white  aprons  over  their  skirts,  the  Girl  Scouts  pre- 
sented an  attractive  appearance;  and  Captain  Phil- 
lips, gazing  about  her  critically,  felt  that  she  had  rea- 
son to  be  proud  of  her  girls  and  their  accomplish- 
ments. 

The  morning  was  not  a  particularly  busy  one ;  only 
twenty  or  thirty  people  from  the  village,  besides  a 
few  of  the  pupils  and  teachers,  dropped  in.  Miss 
Phillips'  expression  began  to  grow  more  anxious  as 
the  noon  hour  approached,  and  all  the  Scouts'  felt  a 
trifle  worried. 

When  the  clock  struck  twelve,  Marjorie  picked  up 
her  almost  empty  candy  box  for  the  tenth  time  to 
count  the  few  coins  that  jingled  forlornly  when  she 


150  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

shook  it.  She  knew  what  the  result  would  be — she 
had  sold  only  two  articles — but  she  repeated  the 
process  hopefully,  as  if  by  some  magic,  the  total 
might  have  increased.  There  were  exactly  two  dol- 
lars. 

"Do  you  suppose  it  is  because  our  things  aren't 
pretty?"  she  asked  Lily,  although  she  really  could 
not  conceive  of  anything  more  exquisite  than  the 
diminutive  garments  on  the  table. 

But  Lily  reassured  her.  "You  just  wait !"  she  an- 
swered; "the  big  crowd'll  come  this  afternoon! 
Don't  forget  those  wonderful  posters  Frances  and 
Edith  made — they  ought  to  bring  the  buyers !" 

"I  hope  they  do!"  said  Marjorie,  somewhat 
cheered  by  the  other  girl's  words.  "Especially  after 
all  the  trouble  we  had  putting  them  up !" 

Both  girls  laughed  at  the  recollection  of  climbing 
posts,  entering  stores,  and  respectfully  requesting 
shop-keepers  to  display  their  home-made  posters.  A 
slight  snowfall  had  added  spice  to  the  adventure,  and 
helped  to  make  the  experience  one  to  be  remem- 
bered. 

During  the  lull  that  followed,  the  Scouts  seized 
the  opportunity  to  leave  their  posts  and  rush  over 
to  the  sandwich  booth  to  purchase  a  hasty  luncheon. 
Through  their  patronage,  the  number  of  sales  there 
was  increased,  and  the  cash  box  returned  an  agree- 
ably "full"  sound  when  shaken.  Ruth  Henry,  who 


GOOD  TURN  151 

was  serving  as  an  aide  at  this  table,  looked  well  satis- 
fied. 

Business  at  all  the  other  booths,  however,  con- 
tinued to  be  dull  until  shortly  after  two  o'clock,  when 
the  gymnasium  door  burst  open,  and  what  appeared 
to  be  an  endless  succession  of  noisy,  laughing  girls 
crowded  in.  It  proved  to  be  Miss  Martin's  entire 
seminary,  turned  out  in  a  body  to  support  their  sis- 
ter school  in  its  good  work. 

"Hurrah  for  the  Girl  Scouts !"  they  shouted,  and 
proceeded  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  money  in  the  pur- 
chase of  both  refreshments  and  Christmas  presents. 

Unfortunately  for  Marjorie  and  Lily,  however, 
very  few  of  the  girls  were  interested  in  their  booth, 
and  therefore  did  not  come  over  to  buy.  Three  or 
four  girls,  who  boasted  of  baby-brothers  or  sisters, 
purchased  caps  and  fancy  rattles ;  but  the  total  value 
of  their  sales  had  hardly  reached  ten  dollars,  when 
the  visitors  left  the  bazaar.  Both  Marjorie  and  Lily 
were  glad  to  see  the  other  Scouts  more  successful 
than  they  had  been  during  the  morning,  but  they 
despaired  of  making  their  own  booth  worth  while. 

Toward  half -past  three,  Ruth,  who  had  been  busy 
steadily  until  that  time  at  the  sandwich  table, 
sauntered  over  to  visit  the  girls  at  the  baby  booth. 

"We're  almost  sold  out,"  she  remarked,  carelessly. 
"How  are  you  getting  along,  Marj  ?" 

"Not  so  good!"  sighed  Marjorie.  "But  I  surely 
congratulate  you !" 


152  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"We  have  over  twenty-five  dollars,"  continued  the 
other.  "But  you  ought  to  have  more  because  we 
have  to  sell  sandwiches  so  cheap." 

"I  have  only  ten,"  admitted  Marjorie,  sadly. 

"Only  ten!"  repeated  Ruth.  "Well,  if  that's  all 
you're  going  to  make,  I  don't  see  why  you  should 
have  so  much  say  about  what  we  do  with  the 
money!"  This  last  remark  was  added  spitefully, 
it  seemed  to  Marjorie. 

The  latter  made  no  reply,  however,  and  Ruth 
turned  away. 

"She  certainly  can  be  nasty,  when  she  wants  to 
be !"  remarked  Lily.  "But  don't  you  care,  Mar j ! 
Anybody  could  sell  sandwiches — especially  when  our 
own  girls  buy  them !" 

Marjorie  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  began  to 
hum,  in  the  attempt  to  regain  her  cheerful  spirits. 
But  no  one  came  near  her  table  for  almost  half  an 
hour;  then,  about  four  o'clock,  a  dozen  or  more 
young  married  women  hurried  over  in  her  direc- 
tion. 

"Baby  things!"  exclaimed  one.  "You  never  can 
get  them  at  Jones' !" 

"I  wonder  why  they  don't  keep  them,"  remarked 
another.  "Well,  here's  our  chance !" 

The  women,  who  were  evidently  coming  from  a 
tea  or  some  such  social  function,  simply  surrounded 
Marjorie's  table  and  purchased  lavishly.  They  ex- 
claimed admiringly  over  everything,  and  bought  so 


GOOD  TURN  153 

fast  that  the  girls  had  to  summon  extra  aides  to 
help  them.  Finally,  when  they  had  gone,  Marjorie 
had  a  minute  to  count  the  contents  of  her  cash  box. 
She  had  fifty-six  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents! 

But  her  triumph  was  not  yet  over,  for  scarcely 
had  she  put  the  money  away  when  a  slender  little 
woman,  who  had  all  the  while  been  watching  pro- 
ceedings, approached,  and  called  her  to  the  side. 

"I  buy  for  Jones'  store,  in  the  village,"  she  said 
quietly,  "and  I  should  like  to  offer  you  fifty  dollars 
for  the  remainder  of  your  stock." 

Marjorie  listened  incredulously,  making  no  at- 
tempt to  hide  her  joy  at  the  idea  of  the  transaction. 
Glancing  hastily  at  the  clock,  she  saw  that  it  was 
half-past  four,  within  half  an  hour  of  closing.  She 
accepted  the  woman's  offer  immediately. 

"Thank  you  so  much,"  she  said.  "You  know  it's 
for  a  good  cause !" 

"They  are  lovely  things,"  remarked  the  buyer,  sin- 
cerely. "Really,  they  are  just  what  I  have  been 
looking  for." 

With  trembling  fingers,  Marjorie  and  Lily  folded 
the  snowy  articles  gently  and  tied  them  into  a  bun- 
dle. It  was  simply  wonderful  to  have  nothing  left 
over. 

"Half  an  hour,  and  nothing  to  do!"  said  Mar- 
jorie, squeezing  Lily  around  the  waist  "Wasn't  it 
the  best  luck,  though !" 


154  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Sh!  Don't  say  anything!  Let's  pretend  to  be 
busy,  and  surprise  Miss  Phillips  when  she  calls  for 
a  report !" 

"And  Ruth  Henry,  too!"  added  Marjorie,  wick- 
edly. 

At  quarter  past  five  the  last  purchaser  left  the 
gymnasium,  and  Miss  Phillips  ordered  the  door  to 
be  closed. 

"We'll  leave  things  as  they  are,"  she  said,  "and 
come  over  to  clear  up  to-night.  In  the  meantime, 
you  are  to  go  back  to  the  dormitory  and  prepare  for 
supper.  But  there  is  one  thing  I  want  to  know  be- 
fore you  all  leave,"  she  concluded;  "and  that  is — 
how  much  cash  you  each  have.  Did  anyone,  by  any 
chance,  sell  out?" 

"Yes,  we  did !"  announced  Ruth  Henry,  although 
the  sandwich  table  had  really  been  in  charge  of  Elsie 
Lorimer. 

"Fine!    How  much?" 

"Thirty-two  dollars — and  some  change!"  Ruth 
glanced  triumphantly  at  Marjorie. 

"Anyone  else?"  inquired  Miss  Phillips. 
"Yes,"  replied  Marjorie.     "Lily  and  I  did.    We 
have  one  hundred  and  six  dollars,  and  twenty-five 
cents." 

But  amidst  all  the  congratulations  that  followed, 
Marjorie  thought  only  of  one  thing:  that  she  had 
been  able  to  answer  Ruth's  challenge!  She  had 


GOOD  TURN  155 

made  the  most  of  any  booth — and  she  felt  privileged 
to  have  a  say  in  the  direction  to  which  the  money 
should  be  applied !  She  would  not  be  afraid  to  urge 
again  the  cause  of  Frieda  Hammer,  and  the  Scouts' 
Good  Turn ! 


156  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    SCOUT     CHRISTMAS    TREE 

IT  WAS  not  until  the  following  Friday  evening, 
when  each  girl  in  charge  of  a  table  had  made  her 
report,  that  Miss  Phillips  was  able  to  add  up  the 
total  receipts  from  the  sales  at  the  bazaar.  At  last 
she  looked  up  with  a  happy  smile. 

"Four  hundred  and  twenty-two  dollars!"  she  an- 
nounced; and  the  girls  broke  into  uproarious  ap- 
plause. 

"Since  this  is  our  last  meeting  in  the  old  year," 
she  went  on,  "I  especially  want  the  new  girls  to  take 
their  Tenderfoot  tests.  But  before  that,  and  before 
we  talk  over  the  Christmas  plans  that  Ruth  Henry 
suggested  several  weeks  ago,  I  desire  to  read  you 
some  letters. 

"I  went  to  the  office  of  our  little  local  newspaper, 
The  Star,  and  asked  whether  any  poor  children  had 
written  to  Santa  Claus  through  them. 

"The  woman  in  charge  was  awfully  nice;  she 
smiled  sort  of  tenderly,  as  if  all  the  children  belonged 
to  her. 


GOOD  TURN  157 

"  'Indeed  we  have/  she  replied,  opening  a  drawer. 
'Look  at  this  bunch.' 

"And  she  handed  me  these" — Miss  Phillips  held 
up  a  handful  of  torn,  dirty  pieces  of  all  kinds  of 
paper,  except  writing  paper — "and  I  discovered 
there  were  thirty-two  of  them,  all  so  quaint  and 
funny.  So  I  said  I  would  put  the  matter  up  to  you 
Scouts  to-night,  and  report  to  her  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  let's  give  them  a  party,  and  a  tree,  and  the 
presents  they  want,"  cried  Marjorie,  anxious  for 
everyone  to  know  that  she  did  not  want  to  monopo- 
lize all  of  the  money  for  Frieda. 

"Read  them,  please,  Captain!"  begged  Frances. 

Miss  Phillips  opened  two  or  three,  selected  one, 
and  read  slowly,  apparently  encountering  difficulty 
in  the  spelling : 

"Dear  Santa  Klaus : 

"Pleas  send  me  a  dol  that  opens  hur  ise  with  love 
Mary  Connelly." 

After  that  she  read  half  a  dozen  or  so,  each  one 
as  laboriously  composed  as  the  first,  asking  St. 
Nicholas  to  bring  them  the  things  nearest  their 
hearts. 

"But  when  could  we  have  the  party?"  asked  the 
Captain.  "It's  too  soon  to  have  it  this  Saturday 
afternoon,  and  next  week  the  older  children  will 
have  school." 


158  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Couldn't  we  have  it  at  four  o'clock?"  suggested 
Ethel ;  "I  should  think  we  could  keep  them  out  until 
half-past  five,  and  then  we  could  take  them  home 
ourselves,  because,  of  course,  it  would  be  too  dark 
by  then  for  them  to  go  alone." 

They  decided  upon  Thursday  afternoon,  for  the 
girls  were  to  leave  Miss  Allen's  at  noon  on  Friday; 
and  a  hundred  dollars  was  appropriated  for  the  party 
and  the  presents. 

The  time  seemed  all  too  short  for  the  committee 
in  charge ;  indeed,  every  member  of  the  troop  served 
in  some  way.  Miss  Phillips  took  Frances  and  Ethel 
to  the  city  with  her  to  select  the  presents  and  the  tree 
ornaments;  four  of  the  girls  wrote  the  invitations, 
and  half  a  dozen  were  to  attend  to  the  refreshments 
and  decorations.  Lily  Andrews,  because  she  was 
stout  and  jolly,  was  awarded  the  supreme  honor  of 
being  Santa  Claus ;  and  she  spent  much  time  prepar- 
ing her  costume. 

At  last  everything  was  in  readiness,  and  the  Scouts 
gathered  in  the  gymnasium.  A  big  tree  stood  in 
the  center,  glistening  with  tinsel  and  shining  with 
brightly  colored  balls.  Underneath,  attractively 
wrapped  in  Christmas  paper  and  ribbon,  the  presents 
were  invitingly  piled.  Santa  Claus,  with  several  of 
the  girls  who  were  to  assist  "him,"  was  hidden  in 
Miss  Phillips's  office. 

The  guests — everyone  of  the  thirty-two  ragged 
little  children,  and  several  additional  younger  broth- 


GOOD  TURN  159 

ers  and  sisters  besides — arrived,  dressed  in  what  was 
probably  their  best  clothes — just  as  the  little  Ruggles 
came  to  Carol's  famous  party  in  "The  Birds'  Christ- 
mas Carol."  Edith  and  Frances  received  them  at  the 
door  and  helped  them  remove  their  coats  and  hats. 

With  exclamations  of  "Oh!"  and  "Ah!"  they 
stood  perfectly  still,  lost  in  admiration  of  the  Christ- 
mas tree.  They  had  never  seen  such  a  lovely  one 
before. 

"Will  everyone  please  sit  down  upon  the  pillows  ?" 
asked  Miss  Phillips,  indicating  a  row  of  sofa  cush- 
ions arranged  around  the  tree.  , 

Doris  Sands  and  Emily  Rankin  gave  out  the  pop- 
corn and  candy  toys.  The  children  were  too  much 
awe-struck  to  think  of  talking.  They  just  sat  still 
and  gazed,  all  the  while  sucking  their  candy,  and 
looking  expectantly  at  the  alluring  parcels  under  the 
tree. 

In  a  short  time,  from  the  direction  of  the  office,  a 
great  chorus  of  song  came : 

"Silent  night,  holy  night, 
All  is  calm,  all  is  bright " 


the  famous  old  Christmas  carol  that  children  and 
grown  people  everywhere  love. 

When  the  last  notes  of  the  song  had  died  away, 
Edith  Evans,  the  story-teller  of  the  group,  related 
the  pretty  little  legend  of  "Why  the  Chimes  Rang" 


160  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

— telling  how  a  small  boy,  who  had  only  ten  cents  to 
give  at  Christmas  time,  gave  it  with  his  whole  heart, 
and  the  magical  chimes,  which  sounded  only  for 
great  gifts,  and  which  had  been  silent  now  for  many 
years,  rang  out  through  the  clear  stillness  of  that 
Christmas  night. 

There  is  perhaps  no  other  Christmas  story  which 
contains  the  real  Christmas  spirit  so  much  as  this 
one,  with  its  simple  message  of  whole-hearted  giv- 
ing ;  and  it  did  not  fail  to  produce  the  desired  effect. 
The  children  were  just  in  the  mood  of  what  fol- 
lowed :  the  appearance  of  Santa  Claus ! 

With  a  jolly  "Ha !  Ha !"  and  the  ringing  of  sleigh 
bells,  he  came  in  through  the  open  door  carrying  a 
huge  pack  on  his  back,  and  was  greeted  with  tre- 
mendous applause. 

Reaching  into  his  pocket,  he  took  out  the  notes 
and  held  them  up  to  examine. 

"I  got  every  one  of  your  letters,"  he  said,  "and  I 
hope  you  will  all  be  satisfied  with  your  presents.  I 
have  tried  to  do  the  best  I  could.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha! 
Christmas  is  a  jolly  time !" 

Santa's  laughter  was  so  real  and  his  enjoyment  so 
genuine  that  the  children  beamed  with  happiness.  It 
seemed  as  if  their  dreams  had  really  come  true. 

"Here's  a  package  for  Mary  Connelly,"  he  said, 
taking  off  his  pack;  "and  here's  one  for  Peter  My- 
ers." 

The  children  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  went 


GOOD  TURN  161 

forward  to  receive  their  gifts.  Edith  and  Frances 
brought  the  others  out  from  beneath  the  tree,  and 
there  were  half  a  dozen  left  over,  even  after  the  un- 
expected guests  had  been  provided  for. 

"And  a  box  of  candy  for  everybody,"  concluded 
Santa  Claus,  reaching  for  the  pile  of  boxes,  each 
wrapped  in  white  paper,  and  handing  them  to  his 
helpers. 

"And  now  I  must  be  gone !"  he  said.  "I've  many 
places  to  visit  before  Christmas  day.  A  merry 
Christmas  to  all!"  he  cried,  and  as  they  answered, 
"The  same  to  you !"  he  vanished  through  the  door- 
way. The  tingling  of  sleighbells  announced  the  fact 
that  he  had  gone. 

The  short  winter  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
the  children  suddenly  realized,  as  they  were  looking 
at  their  presents,  that  it  was  getting  quite  dark.  But 
in  an  instant,  as  if  by  magic,  the  tree  was  alight  with 
many  gaily-colored  electric  bulbs,  which  gleamed  and 
sparkled  so  gloriously  that  they  all  gasped  and  gazed 
in  wonder. 

While  the  refreshments  were  being  prepared, 
Ethel  and  Doris  started  a  game,  to  the  winner  of 
which  a  prize  "stocking"  was  given.  Just  as  this 
was  concluded,  Miss  Phillips  called  that  they  were 
ready. 

Behind  the  tree  there  had  been  a  row  of  screens 
to  hide  the  preparations.  Now  these  were  removed, 
and  the  most  beautiful  sight  that  the  children  had 


162  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

ever  seen  appeared  before  their  eyes.  A  table  piled 
with  goodies  of  every  kind  decorated  with  holly  and 
mistletoe  and  Christmas  candles  and  candies.  Three 
large  bowls  in  the  center  of  the  table  contained  red 
strings  which  extended  to  every  child's  place. 

The  little  guests  sat  down  and  pulled  their  red 
ribbons — and  to  their  great  delight,  each  received  an- 
other present.  Then  they  began  to  eat.  There  were 
chicken  sandwiches,  and  cocoa  with  whipped  cream, 
and  ice-cream,  cake,  candy,  fruit,  and  nuts.  The 
Scouts  simply  loaded  their  plates,  telling  them  that 
they  might  carry  home  what  they  could  not  eat. 

They  were  having  such  a  delightful  party  that 
they  were  all  surprised  when  six  o'clock  came,  and 
Miss  Phillips  gave  the  signal  for  departure.  The 
Scouts  put  on  their  hats  and  coats,  and,  with  their 
arms  laden  with  goodies,  and  gifts,  and  holly,  the 
children  returned  to  the  village. 

Lily  reappeared,  dressed  in  her  Scout  uniform,  to 
accompany  them.  One  of  the  children,  who  had 
been  looking  at  her  closely  for  several  minutes,  ex- 
claimed abruptly, 

"Santa  Claus  is  a  Girl  Scout  1" 

The  Scouts  burst  out  laughing. 

"He  was  this  time,"  explained  Edith,  kindly ;  "for 
the  real  Santa  had  too  much  to  do,  so  he  asked  us  to 
help  him." 

"You  are  all  Santa  Clauses !"  corrected  the  child. 


GOOD  TURN  163 

"I  think  Girl  Scouts  are  the  most  nicest  people  in  the 
whole  world!" 

And  Pansy  troop,  to  the  last  girl,  was  satisfied 
with  the  work  it  had  accomplished,  and  the  real 
Christmas  cheer  it  had  brought  to  these  children's 
hearts. 


164  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  VISIT  TO  HAMMERS' 

THE  Christmas  holidays  had  always  meant  a 
great  deal  to  Marjorie.  There  was  not  only  the  joy 
of  the  holiday  season,  and  of  giving  and  receiving 
presents,  but  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  family  and 
her  old  friends  again,  of  going  to  parties,  and  of 
entertaining.  The  preceeding  year  she  had  given  a 
house-party  to  the  freshmen  and  sophomore  mem- 
bers of  the  sorority  to  which  she  belonged  at  that 
time,  and  they  had  all  had  a  lovely  time.  Ruth,  who 
had  never  been  a  member  of  the  secret  society,  had 
been  left  out — a  proceeding  which  so  angered  her  as 
to  cause  her  to  seek  in  some  way  to  get  even  with 
Marjorie.  And  this  had  been  the  beginning  of  all 
the  trouble!  Now  as  she  looked  back  upon  it,  the 
whole  affair  seemed  childish ;  she  realized  that  what- 
ever parties  she  gave  in  the  future  would  include 
Ruth. 

Marjorie's  mother  had  told  her  that  she  might  in- 
vite Lily,  or  any  other  friend,  to  spend  part  or  all  of 
the  holidays  with  her ;  and  she  had  received  a  lovely 


GOOD  TURN  165 

invitation  from  Doris's  mother  to  go  to  their  home 
for  Christmas  week.  But  she  had  resolutely  refused 
all  these  suggestions;  she  had  other  plans — not  of  a 
social  nature. 

It  was  with  this  purpose  in  mind  that  she  visited 
Miss  Phillips  the  night  of  the  children's  party. 

"Could  you  possibly  spare  me  a  day  during  your 
holiday,  Miss  Phillips?"  she  asked.  "I  want  to  go 
and  see  Frieda's  mother." 

"Why,  what  an  idea!"  exclaimed  the  teacher  in 
surprise.  "But  do  you  think  she  knows  where  her 
daughter  is?" 

"I  think  she  must  know  something.  And  maybe 

she  could  tell  us  why  Frieda  ran  away.  And " 

Marjorie  paused,  shyly, — "and  I  want  to  get  word 
to  her  if  I  can  that  I  don't  mind  her  taking  my  ca- 
noe!" 

"Marjorie,  you're  a  strange  girl !"  remarked  Miss 
Phillips,  looking  at  her  quizzically.  Then,  "But 
have  you  asked  your  parents'  consent  ?" 

"Yes ;  papa  said  he  would  drive  us  over.  But  he 
also  said  that  he  wouldn't  let  me  go  without  you. 
And  he  was  afraid  it  would  be  asking  too  much  of 
you!" 

"Not  at  all.  I  could  easily  arrange  to  meet  you. 
What  day  do  you  want  to  go  ?" 

"Whatever  day  suits  you  best." 

Miss  Phillips  went  to  her  desk  and  consulted  an 
engagement  pad. 


166  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"How  about  Friday — a  week  from  to-morrow?" 
she  suggested.  "Then,  if  it  should  rain,  we  could 
go  Saturday." 

"Fine!"  concluded  Marjorie,  rising  to  go.  But 
Miss  Phillips  detained  her  for  a  moment. 

"Marjorie,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  lovely 
gift.  It  was  sweet  of  you  to  do  all  that  work  for 
me." 

The  girl  smiled,  delighted  that  her  favorite  teacher 
was  pleased.  In  fact,  Miss  Phillips  was  not  only  her 
favorite  teacher,  but  the  only  one  in  whom  she  took 
any  interest. 

"I'm  glad  you  liked  it,  Miss  Phillips,"  she  said,  as 
she  turned  to  leave  the  office. 

Marjorie  and  Ruth  rode  home  in  the  train  to- 
gether. As  soon  as  the  girls  were  away  from  Miss 
Allen's,  and  there  was  no  longer  any  rivalry  raging 
between  them,  Ruth  became  her  old  self  again,  and 
expected  to  have  Marjorie  once  more  as  her  best 
friend.  But  Marjorie  was  not  to  be  so  easily  won. 

"Mother  writes  that  there's  a  new  family  moved 
in  next  door  to  us,"  remarked  Ruth,  "and  she  says 
that  the  son — a  boy  a  little  older  than  we  are,  seems 
very  nice.  I  thought  maybe  I'd  ask  him  over  some 
night  during  Christmas  week,  if  you  and  Jack  can 
come,  too.  We  could  play  bridge,  and  dance  a  lit- 
tle." 

"That  would  be  lovely,"  murmured  Marjorie,  in  a 
preoccupied  manner,  for  her  thoughts  had  flown  in 


GOOD  TURN  167 

a  different  direction — to  her  own  one  important  plan 
for  the  coming  week. 

"How  would  next  Friday  suit?"  suggested  Ruth. 

Marjorie  shook  her  head  decidedly.  "Sorry,  but  I 
can't  possibly!" 

Ruth  regarded  her  curiously.  What  plans  could 
Marjorie  have — so  early?  No  doubt  it  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  John  Hadley. 

"If  it's  John,  why,  bring  him  along,  and  I'll  try 
to  get  another  girl,"  she  ventured. 

"No ;  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  John.  I  expect  to 
be  out  of  town." 

"At  Lily's?" 

"No ;  I  won't  be  visiting  anybody." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Ruth,  sulkily,  "if  you  don't  want 
to  tell  me,  you  don't  have  to.  I  don't  care." 

"I  can't  very  well  tell  you,  Ruth,"  replied  Mar- 
jorie; "and  besides,  you  wouldn't  be  interested." 

"Then  when  can  you  come?" 

"Tuesday  or  Wednesday,  whichever  you  like." 

The  girls  finally  agreed  upon  Wednesday,  and 
separated  with  the  promise  to  visit  each  other  before 
then.  But  Ruth  resented  Marjorie's  secrecy  and 
tried  to  imagine  what  her  important  engagement 
could  possibly  be.  , 

Christmas,  and  the  next  four  days  passed  happily 
and  quickly,  and  almost  before  she  realized  it,  Fri- 
day had  come,  bringing  to  Marjorie  her  chance  for 
adventure. 


168  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

Wrapped  snugly  in  her  mother's  fur  coat,  and 
with  the  big  robe  tucked  in  around  her,  she  sat  on 
the  front  seat  of  the  machine  that  cold,  clear  morn- 
ing of  the  end  of  December.  She  was  very  happy ; 
she  felt,  indeed,  that  she  was  doing  something  worth 
while,  and  the  prospect  of  a  nice  long  ride  with  Miss 
Phillips  added  not  a  little  to  her  pleasure. 

After  they  had  driven  about  fifteen  miles  they  met 
the  Scout  Captain,  and  then  continued  on  their  way. 
Ten  miles  before  they  reached  their  destination  they 
stopped  at  a  hotel  for  dinner. 

"Suppose  they  don't  live  there  any  longer,"  re- 
marked Marjorie.  "All  our  trip  for  nothing!" 

"No,  for  we  could  probably  get  some  information 
from  Mrs.  Brubaker,"  replied  Miss  Phillips.  "But  I 
don't  think  they'd  move." 

"It  isn't  likely,"  assented  Marjorie. 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  they  arrived  at  the  Bru- 
baker farm.  The  front  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Bru- 
baker appeared. 

"Well,  of  all  things !"  she  exclaimed,  recognizing 
Miss  Phillips  and  Marjorie  in  the  car.  "This  surely 
is  a  surprise!" 

When  they  were  all  comfortably  seated  before 
the  open  fire,  Mr.  Wilkinson  explained  their  mission, 
and  the  good  woman  seemed  amazed  at  their  news. 

"We  had  no  idea  Frieda  wasn't  still  at  school. 
Her  mother  never  said  a  word.  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry !" 

They  talked  a  little  while,  and  then  leaving  her 


GOOD  TURN  169 

father  with  Mr.  Brubaker,  Marjorie  and  her  Captain 
proceeded  toward  the  tenant  house  where  the  Ham- 
mers lived. 

Mrs.  Hammer  did  not  recognize  them  at  first. 
Then  Miss  Phillips  explained. 

"We  want  to  know  if  you  have  any  news  of 
Frieda,  Mrs.  Hammer,"  she  said,  very  politely. 

"Come  in,"  invited  the  older  woman,  holding  open 
the  door  a  little  wider. 

"We  haven't  heard  a  word  since  she  ran  away," 
continued  Miss  Phillips,  as  soon  as  they  were  inside, 
"except  that  a  friend  of  mine  saw  a  girl  answering 
her  description  in  New  York." 

"That's  where  she  is,  I  reckon,"  assented  Mrs. 
Hammer,  "but  that's  all  I  know.  From  her  onct  in 
a  while  I  get  a  letter,  and  can  write  to  her  care  of — 
what  d'ye  call  it? — general  delivery.  But  I  can't 
write  very  good." 

"Oh,  may  we  see  the  letters?"  asked  Marjorie, 
eagerly. 

"Yes — I  don't  mind.  You  people  sure  treated  her 
white.  I  don't  know  what's  got  into  her." 

The  woman  crossed  the  room,  which  was  untidy 
and  dirty,  and  pulled  out  a  drawer  in  the  table. 
There,  among  heterogeneous  trash,  Marjorie  noticed 
several  letters.  Mrs.  Hammer  tossed  them  into  Miss 
Phillips's  lap. 

"You  can  read  them  all,"  she  said,  "while  I  go 
look  to  the  baby." 


170  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

Miss  Phillips  noticed  Marjorie's  excitement,  and 
politely  handed  her  the  letters — there  were  three  of 
them, — which  the  girl  opened  with  trembling  fingers. 
Apparently,  all  of  them  were  short. 

"This  must  be  the  first,"  she  said,  and  read  aloud, 

"DEAR  MA, 

"I  ran  away  in  that  girl's  bot  becaus  a  girl  insulted 
me.  I  brot  my  clothes  and  a  pencil  and  I  stayed  at 
an  empty  hous  to-night. 

"FRIEDA." 

Marjorie  put  the  paper  back  into  the  envelope 
with  a  sigh. 

"That  doesn't  tell  us  a  whole  lot,  does  it?"  she 
observed.  "Except  that  we  know  now  for  sure  that 
the  girl  that  old  woman  described  at  the  empty  house 
was  Frieda." 

"But  what  does  she  mean  about  a  girl  insulting 
her  ?"  asked  Miss  Phillips,  in  a  puzzled  tone. 

Marjorie  frowned ;  she  had  no  desire  to  tell  tales 
about  Ruth.  Accordingly,  she  related  the  story,  but 
withheld  the  name  of  the  girl  concerned. 

"Frieda  certainly  must  be  skillful  as  a  boatsman," 
remarked  Miss  Phillips,  "to  be  able  to  come  that 
far." 

"Yes,"  said  Marjorie,  opening  the  letter  with  the 
second  earliest  postmark.  Then,  "Oh,  listen  to  this : 

"I  got  to  Trenton  but  befor  I  crossed  the  river  I 


GOOD  TURN  171 

sold  the  hot  for  $20.    I'm  going  to  New  York  for  to 
get  work. 

"FRIEDA." 

"Trenton!"  repeated  Miss  Phillips.  "Marjorie, 
we  might  be  able  to  locate  your  canoe  if  we  search 
all  the  boat-houses  and  the  river-front  there,  and  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  Delaware !" 

"That's  an  idea!"  cried  Marjorie.  "I'll  ask 
papa " 

But  she  was  too  anxious  to  read  the  third  and  last 
letter  to  finish  her  sentence.  Hastily  she  pulled  it 
from  the  envelope. 

"DEAR  MA, 

"I'm  in  New  York  now  and  you  can  rite  me  care 
Gen.  Del.  My  money  is  most  gone.  I  got  a  waitres 
job. 

"FRIEDA." 

"But  she  hasn't,  any  more!"  protested  Marjorie; 
"at  least,  if  Miss  Smith  is  right!" 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Hammer  returned  with  the 
baby,  and  Marjorie  asked  her  all  sorts  of  questions 
to  which  she  could  not  reply,  but  only  shake  her  head 
hopelessly. 

"But  aren't  you  the  least  bit  worried  ?"  asked  Mar- 
jorie, picturing  how  her  own  mother  would  feel 
under  similar  circumstances.  For  Mrs.  Hammer 
was  certainly  amazingly  calm. 


172  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Ach!  she's  old  enough  to  take  care  of  herself!" 
cried  the  woman  impatiently.  "New  York's  a  fine 
place — I'm  glad  she  is  there  1" 

Marjorie  again  thought  of  the  great  city  as  she 
had  seen  it  when  she  visited  Lily  at  Thanksgiving, 
and  she  shuddered  at  the  confusion  and  the  danger 
of  it  all.  And  to  a  country  girl  like  Frieda,  it  must 
be  even  more  terrifying.  But  she  said  nothing 
further;  Mrs.  Hammer  had  no  conception  of  it,  and 
probably  never  would  have.  She  was  relieved  to  see 
Miss  Phillips  make  a  motion  to  go. 

All  during  the  ride  home,  she  was  unusually  quiet, 
but  it  was  not  from  despair.  The  visit,  she  felt,  had 
not  been  in  vain;  she  had  formulated  a  plan  which 
she  meant  to  put  into  effect  as  soon  as  she  reached 
home.  She  would  write  to  Frieda  and  tell  her  how 
much  she  wanted  her  to  come  back.  She  would  as- 
sure the  girl  that  she  did  not  mind  about  the  canoe — 
she  would  even  make  her  a  present  of  it.  And  she 
would  be  glad  to  send  Frieda  the  money  for  a  re- 
turn ticket  if  she  would  only  promise  to  come  back! 


GOOD  TURN  173 


CHAPTER  XVII 

RUTH    FINDS   THE    CANOE 

RUTH  HENRY  had  always  been  a  pretty  girl,  but 
in  the  past  year  she  had  grown  even  more  attractive. 
Though  small  of  stature,  there  was  nothing  insig- 
nificant about  her;  indeed,  she  was  of  the  striking 
type  which  attracts  immediate  attention,  even  of  the 
casual  observer.  Always  planning  some  activity, 
or  involved  in  some  scheme  to  further  her  own  in- 
terests, she  was  a  creature  of  perpetual  animation. 
This  very  vivacity  was  one  of  her  chief  charms 
among  young  and  old. 

It  was  no  particular  surprise  to  anyone,  therefore, 
that  Harold  Mason  was  smitten  by  her  at  first  sight. 
Here,  he  felt,  was  his  ideal  type  of  girl :  pretty,  pe- 
tite, feminine,  yet  combining  with  all  those  charac- 
teristics a  love  of  sport  and  adventure,  and  a  spirit 
of  daring  that  was  almost  boyish.  What  a  comrade ! 
he  thought. 

The  boy  himself  "was  far  from  unattractive. 
Raised  in  Virginia,  he  possessed  that  unconscious 
charm  of  the  Southerner  that  is  always  particularly 


174  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

pleasing1  to  women.  He  drawled  his  words,  drop- 
ping his  "r's" ;  and  he  had  a  little  habit  of  smiling  at 
the  end  of  his  remarks.  Like  Ruth,  however,  Har- 
old Mason  was  an  only  child ;  and,  like  her,  he  was 
spoiled.  Possessing  a  car  of  his  own — even  though 
it  happened  to  be  only  a  Ford  sedan — he  came  and 
went  as  he  pleased,  with  the  consequence  that  his 
studies  had  often  suffered.  Now,  when  he  should 
have  been  in  college,  he  was  merely  finishing  the  lat- 
ter half  of  his  senior  year  at  High  School. 

"I  tell  you  what,  Ruth,"  he  said  on  the  second  day 
of  their  holiday  (they  felt  by  now  as  if  they  had 
known  each  other  all  of  their  lives),  "let's  have  a 
regular  good  time  this  week.  Let's  go  somewhere 
every  single  day!" 

Ruth  smiled  faintly;  she  could  not  help  being  flat- 
tered by  her  conquest. 

"Suppose  I  have  other  engagements  ?" 

"Chuck  them — ah — just  for  once !" 

"And  maybe  mother  won't  let  me." 

"Well,  tease  her!" 

"And  then,"  added  Ruth,  "you  haven't  met  Mar- 
jorie  Wilkinson.  She's  considered  (by  some)  the 
most  attractive  girl  at  our  school !" 

"Oh,  forget  her!  I've  seen  her,  even  if  1  haven't 
met  her.  Her  type  doesn't  appeal  to  me !" 

Ruth  laughed  good  naturedly,  and  surrendered. 
But  she  made  one  reservation. 


GOOD  TURN  175 

"I  promised  Jack  Wilkinson  I'd  go  to  the  movies 
with  him  on  Friday." 

Harold  closed  his  lips  tightly,  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"As  you  please,"  he  said ;  "maybe  I  will  ask  Mar- 
jorie  for  that  day." 

"Then  you'll  get  left!"  retorted  Ruth  triumph- 
antly. "She  has  a  date,  too !" 

"Well — then  I'll  ask  Miss  Maria!"  he  concluded, 
mentioning  one  who  was  the  typical  "old-maid"  of 
the  town,  and  who  unconsciously  bore  the  brunt  of 
all  the  young  people's  jokes. 

When  Jack  and  Marjorie  came  over  to  Ruth's  on 
Wednesday  evening,  Harold  found  the  girl  to  be 
just  as  he  had  expected :  rather  quiet  and  diffident, 
even  pretty,  but  not  striking-looking;  and  he  made 
no  attempt  to  become  intimate  with  her.  After  they 
had  tired  of  playing  cards,  whenever  Jack  and  Ruth 
saw  fit  to  dance  together,  he  offered  to  do  likewise 
with  Marjorie,  as  a  mere  matter  of  form.  But  he 
did  not  find  her  easy  to  talk  to. 

"Jack,  what's  Marj  going  to  do  on  Friday?"  Ruth 
asked  as  she  poured  the  cocoa  from  the  chafing  dish 
on  the  tea-table. 

Marjorie  looked  up,  amused.  She  was  sincerely 
thankful  that  Jack  knew  as  little  as  Ruth  about  her 
coming  adventure. 

"You  can  search  me!"  replied  the  boy.  "I  did 
hear  dad  mention  an  auto  ride." 


176  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Your  father?"  repeated  Ruth.  "Is  that  all? 
And  here  I  was  picturing  a  secret  meeting  with  an 
unknown  lover " 

"Wrong  as  usual !"  said  Marjorie,  a  little  sharply. 
"I  told  you  that  before,  Ruth." 

Harold  Mason  looked  up  quickly,  incensed  at  the 
tone  Marjorie  had  unconsciously  used  towards  Ruth. 
In  that  instant  he  became  her  enemy;  if  she  and 
Ruth  should  be  rival  contestants  in  any  cause  again, 
he  vowed  to  himself  that  he  would  do  all  in  his 
power  to  help  the  latter. 

"Well,  if  it's  nothing  exciting,  why  don't  you  tell 
us  about  it?"  said  Jack. 

"It's  a  personal  matter,  Jack,"  said  Marjorie;  "I 
should  think  you  and  Ruth  would  understand  that  by 
now !" 

Apparently,  Ruth  was  squelched.  "I  beg  your 
pardon,"  she  said  humbly.  But  the  very  next  in- 
stant she  winked  at  Harold,  and  he  knew  her  well 
enough  to  interpret  the  signal  as  a  challenge  against 
Marjorie. 

"Don't  make  any  engagement  for  Friday!"  she 
whispered,  as  Harold  left  the  house  with  the  others. 

By  pre-arranged  signals,  Ruth  and  Harold  sat 
waiting  in  his  car  at  eight-thirty  on  Friday  morn- 
ing. The  machine  did  not  stand  in  front  of  either 
Mason's  or  Henry's  house ;  instead,  it  was  drawn  up 
before  a  provision  store,  where,  to  the  passer-by,  it 
might  appear  to  be  waiting  while  Mrs.  Mason  or 


GOOD    TURN  177 

Mrs.    Wilkinson    was    making    purchases    inside. 

The  young  people  did  not  have  to  wait  long,  for 
a  few  minutes  before  nine,  Jack  Wilkinson  came 
hurrying  towards  them. 

"They're  gone!"  he  shouted.  "The  other  direc- 
tion— out  the  Main  street." 

lit  a  second,  he  was  inside  the  car,  and  Harold 
stepped  on  the  starter  and  released  the  emergency. 

"How  long  ago  ?"  he  asked,  as  the  machine  began 
to  move  forward. 

"Just  long  enough  for  me  to  get  my  things  on  and 
run  over  here.  About  five  minutes,  I  should  say." 

"Just  Marj  and  your  father?"  asked  Ruth. 

"Yes." 

"Is  he  a  fast  driver?"  inquired  Harold. 

"Pretty  fast,  except  in  traffic,"  replied  Jack. 

"Well,  speed  up,  Harold,"  urged  Ruth.  She 
leaned  back  against  the  seat  contentedly ;  it  would  be 
such  a  lark  to  worry  Marjorie,  especially  since  she 
had  been  so  secret  about  the  whole  proceeding. 

"And  what  am  I  to  do  if  we  do  catch  them?" 
asked  Harold. 

"Just  follow  them,  and  make  their  lives  miser- 
able," laughed  Ruth. 

"I  think  it  must  have  something  to  do  with  Miss 
Phillips,"  remarked  Jack.  "I  heard  her  name  men- 
tioned once  or  twice." 

Ruth  repressed  an  involuntary  start. 

Miss  Phillips!    So  this  was  the  scheme:  Marjorie 


178  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

was  merely  courting  popularity  with  the  Scout  Cap- 
tain !  Probably  her  rival  intended  to  wheedle  Miss 
Phillips  into  giving  her  the  first-class  test  privately, 
so  that  she  might  be  the  first  in  the  troop  to  receive 
that  honor !  A  hard  look  came  into  Ruth's  eyes ;  she 
was  more  resolved  than  ever  to  do  all  in  her  power 
to  make  the  other  girl's  project  fail.  But  she  said 
nothing  of  all  this  to  her  companions. 

They  followed  the  main  road  for  about  five  miles, 
passing  several  machines,  but  never  catching  sight  of 
the  desired  one.  Harold  had  been  keeping  to  about 
thirty  miles  an  hour,  but  as  he  reached  the  level  road 
and  the  open  country,  he  let  it  out  to  thirty-five. 

Ruth  talked  incessantly,  telling  the  boys  all  about 
the  Scout  parties  and  the  hockey  games.  Although 
she  had  not  mentionel  Frieda  Hammer,  she  suddenly 
remarked, 

"Wasn't  it  dreadful  about  Marj's  canoe?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Jack;  "who  do  you  suppose  stole 
it?" 

"Don't  you  know  ?"  exclaimed  Ruth.  "Why,  that 
thief  our  Scout  troop  adopted  to  reform.  But  it 
serves  Marj  right!  She  was  the  strongest  one  for 
doing  it." 

Harold,  who  was  in  the  dark  about  all  this,  was 
naturally  curious  to  hear  the  whole  story,  and  Ruth 
recounted  it  as  briefly  as  possible. 

All  this  time  the  youthful  driver  was  speeding  his 
Ford  at  its  very  limit,  and  gradually  gaining  upon  a 


GOOD  TURN  179 

speck  in  the  distance  which  appeared  to  be  a  tour- 
ing car. 

"By  George!  that's  our  Buick!"  cried  Jack.  "I'll 
just  bet  anything !" 

But  Harold  could  not  go  any  faster,  and  the  other 
car  was  making  good  time.  He  continued,  however, 
to  keep  it  in  sight,  while  Ruth  breathlessly  urged 
him  on. 

The  houses  were  closer  together  now,  and  Harold 
unconsciously  slackened  his  pace. 

"Must  we  go  slow?"  asked  Ruth,  disappointed. 

"Yes;  the  law's  fifteen.  But  we'll  take  a  chance 
on  twenty-five!" 

"Still,  dad  will  have  to  slow  up,  too,"  remarked 
Jack,  consolingly.  "And  maybe  we'll  catch  him  on 
the  open  road  again." 

"It's  almost  like  following  elopers,"  laughed  Har- 
old. "I  do  love  a  chase." 

"So  do  I,"  agreed  Ruth.  Then,  "Oh,  see  that 
bridge ;  do  we  have  to  cross  that  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Jack;  "for  that  will  take  us  into 
Trenton.  And  they  must  be  headed  that  way." 

They  slowed  down  before  crossing  the  bridge 
when  suddenly  there  was  a  terrific  report,  like  an 
explosion,  which  startled  them  so  that  they  almost 
jumped  out  of  their  skins.  Harold  applied  the 
brakes  quickly,  and  swung  the  car  sharply  towards 
the  side  of  the  road. 

"Good  night !"  he  exclaimed ;  "a  blow-out !    I  was 


1150  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

a  fool  to  leave  that  bum  shoe  on  the  rear !  And  the 
spare  is  perfectly  new !" 

"We'll  never  catch  them  now!"  mourned  Ruth, 
dejectedly. 

They  sat  gazing  at  each  other  helplessly. 

"Well,  we'll  never  catch  them  if  we  sit  here  all 
day ;  that's  a  sure  thing !"  announced  Jack,  coming  to 
life.  "Come  on,  Mason !  Let's  break  all  records  for 
a  quick  change!" 

They  scrambled  out  into  the  road. 

"Jerusalem !"  exclaimed  Jack,  poking  a  finger  at 
the  jagged  hole  in  the  flat  tire,  where  the  tread  was 
so  worn  that  the  lining  of  the  shoe  was  exposed. 
"Look  at  that  hole!" 

He  peeled  off  his  coat  and  tossed  it  into  the 
machine,  and  handed  his  watch  to  Ruth,  saying, 

"Here,  Ruth ;  time  us,  from  now  on." 

Harold,  following  his  example,  was  rummaging 
under  the  back  seat  for  his  tools ;  he  threw  a  kit  and 
a  jack  out  into  the  road  calling, 

"There  you  are,  Wilkinson!  You  unscrew  the 
rim-cleats,  and  I'll  jack  her  up." 

"That's  a  funny-looking  jack!"  observed  Ruth, 
looking  at  it  curiously. 

"It's  a  new  kind,"  retorted  Harold  knowingly, 
thinking  that  Ruth,  like  most  girls,  probably  knew 
nothing  about  tools. 

Jack  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  object ;  then 


GOOD  TURN  181 

dropped  what  he  was  doing  to  examine  it  more 
closely. 

"By  George!  Ruth's  right!  Where  is  the  part 
that  goes  under  the  axle?" 

Harold  was  out  of  the  machine  in  a  jiffy. 

"Great  snakes !"  he  howled,  tearing  his  hair.  "It 
does  come  off;  and  if  I  can't  find  it  under  the  seat, 
we're  out  of  luck,  that's  all !" 

He  dived  again  into  the  car,  leaving  the  other  two 
staring  at  the  dismembered  jack.  They  heard  him 
fumbling  around  again,  and,  after  a  minute,  he  slid 
out  and  sat  upon  the  running-board. 

"No  use!    I  guess  I  left  it  home,"  he  said. 

"Then  I  guess  I  won't  need  this,"  said  Ruth,  hand- 
ing Jack  his  watch. 

Suddenly,  the  humor  of  the  situation  struck  all 
three  of  them  at  once,  and  they  burst  into  shrieks  of 
laughter. 

"Well,  catching  them  is  now  out  of  the  question," 
said  Jack,  after  the  merriment  had  subsided;  "but 
we'll  have  to  get  home  again  somehow." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Harold,  "the  question  is — how?" 

"There  must  be  a  garage  around  here  somewhere, 
and  we  could  borrow  a  jack,"  suggested  Ruth. 

"Shall  I  go  ahead  and  look  for  one?"  asked  Jack. 

"Oh,  we'll  stop  a  passing  machine,  and  borrow 
one,"  said  Harold. 

"But  none  has  passed  us  yet,"  protested  Ruth, 
"and  we  might  have  to  wait  here  all  day." 


182  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"I  don't  think  so;  there  ought  to  be  lots  of  traffic 
on  this  road ;  it's  a  main  highway.  They  just  won't 
come  because  we  want  them  to." 

"There  are  several  little  houses  down  there,"  said 
Jack,  indicating  a  group  of  boat-houses  along  the 
banks  of  the  river,  about  fifty  yards  away ;  "perhaps 
one  of  them  would  have  a  jack." 

"To  jack  up  the  boats  with?"  asked  Harold,  sar- 
donically. 

"It  won't  hurt  to  try,  anyway,"  retorted  the  other 
boy.  "Come  on,  Ruth !  We'll  go  ask." 

To  see  Ruth  walk  away  with  Jack  and  leave  him 
sitting  there  alone,  was  too  much  for  Harold. 

"Jack!  I  say,  Jack!"  he  called.  "Come  back  a 
minute !" 

The  boy  and  girl  retraced  their  steps. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"I  was  just  thinking — you  might  crawl  under  the 
car " 

"Eh?" 

"I  say,  you  might  crawl  under  the  car,"  repeated 
Harold. 

"What  for?" 

"Jack  'er  up!" 

He  jumped  up  from  the  running-board  just  in 
time  to  avoid  the  other's  clutches. 

"Now,  Harold!"  protested  Ruth.  "As  if  this 
were  not  enough,  you  must  make  it  worse  with  bad 
puns." 


GOOD  TURN  183 

"I  won't  do  it  again,"  promised  Harold,  with 
mock  penitency.  "But  wait  a  minute — I'm  going 
with  you." 

He  tossed  the  tools  on  the  floor  of  the  car  and 
slammed  the  door. 

"Jack,  my  boy,"  he  resumed,  "I  really  believe  your 
idea  is  a  good  one,  an  inspiration,  a  mark  of  genius ; 
I  verily  believe  we  are  on  the  eve  of  a  great  discov- 
ery  " 

"Oh,  you  dry  up!"  snorted  Jack.  "I  don't  really 
think  we'll  find  one.  But  it  won't  hurt  to  ask." 

Upon  closer  inspection  all  of  the  boat-houses  ap- 
peared to  be  deserted,  except  the  one  farthest  away. 
This  was  slightly  removed  from  the  others,  and 
more  ramshackle  looking;  but  someone  was  evi- 
dently there,  for  they  could  hear  the  sound  of  ham- 
mering, which  seemed  to  come  from  within.  Over 
the  door  hung  a  home-made  sign,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion : 

JOHN  SLACK, 
BOATS  FOR  HIRE. 

"See  anything  funny  about  that  name?"  asked 
Harold. 

The  others  examined  it  more  closely. 

"He's  got  the  "N"  printed  upside-down." 

"Sure  enough!"  laughed  Ruth.  "Well,  of  all 
things  !"• 


184  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Judging  from  the  noise  he's  making,"  continued 
Harold,  "John's  business  isn't  very  slack!" 

"Are  you  commencing  again?"  groaned  Jack. 

"That  will  do,  Harold!  You've  said  quite 
enough!"  warned  Ruth. 

They  halted  before  the  open  doorway,  through 
which  they  could  see  an  old  man  bending  over  an  up- 
turned boat  which  he  was  repairing. 

"Good  day,  Mr.  Slack!"  called  Harold. 

The  man  paused  with  his  hammer  in  mid-air,  and 
raised  his  head ;  a  dirty  white  beard  which  seemed 
to  start  at  his  eyes,  grew  down  over  his  chest 

"Howdy!    What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"We've  had  a  puncture,"  explained  Harold,  "and 
we  want  to  know  whether  you  have  a  jack  that  we 
could  borrow?" 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

"Never  had  no  use  for  one,"  he  replied. 

Their  faces  fell;  but  as  they  turned  to  leave,  the 
old  man  straightened  up,  and  called  out, 

"Hold  on  a  minute !    What  kind  of  car  you  got?" 

"A  Ford,"  Harold  told  him. 

"There's  your  jack,  then,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
pile  of  lumber  in  one  corner  of  the  room ;  "that  there 
twelve-foot  beam !" 

"How?"  queried  the  boy. 

In  reply,  the  man  worked  his  arms  up  and  down, 
as  if  he  were  operating  a  lever. 


GOOD  TURN  185 

"Just  stick  it  underneath  and  hist  on  one  end,"  he 
explained. 

"Can  it  be  done?"  asked  Harold,  doubtfully. 

"I  seen  it  done  onc't — I  guess  you  fellers  kin  do 
it.  Maybe  not  if  you  had  a  bigger  car — I  dunno. 
Yer  welcome  to  try.  But  you  want  to  take  a  block 
to  stick  underneath  the  axle  when  you  get  'er 
raised." 

Following  his  suggestion,  the  boys  raised  the  beam 
to  their  shoulders,  and  carried  it  back  to  the  car, 
Ruth  following  with  the  smaller  piece.  Placing  one 
end  of  the  timber  beneath  the  axle  and  raising  the 
other  end,  they  found  that  without  effort  they  could 
lift  the  rear  of  the  machine  sufficiently  for  Ruth  to 
insert  the  block. 

"Golly!"  exclaimed  Harold;  "I  believe  we  could 
lift  a  truck  this  way.  Pretty  smart  of  old  Santa 
daus  to  think  of  it." 

In  a  short  time  the  change  was  made,  the  tools  put 
away;  and  resting  the  improvised  jack  along  one 
side  of  the  car,  across  the  mudguards,  they  returned 
with  it  to  its  owner. 

"The  job's  done,  Mr.  Slack!"  announced  Harold, 
as  they  flung  the  beam  to  the  ground.  "I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  help." 

He  slipped  a  coin  into  the  old  man's  hand. 

"That's  all  right!"  was  the  answer.  "I'm  much 
obliged  to  you.  I  wouldn't  have  no  use  for  a  real 
jack,"  he  repeated. 


186  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

Meanwhile,  Ruth  was  carrying  on  an  earnest  con- 
versation in  undertones  with  Jack.  She  was  direct- 
ing his  attention  among  the  various  small  boats 
which  filled  the  long  room,  to  a  particular  one  in  the 
far  corner,  which  was  noticeable  because  of  its  bright 
green  paint,  and  because  it  was  the  only  canoe  among 
many  row-boats. 

"It  certainly  looks  like  Marjorie's,"  she  was  say- 
ing. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  canoe?"  she  demanded 
sharply,  turning  to  the  boat-house  keeper. 

"I  bought  it  from  a  young  lady,"  he  replied. 
"She  paddled  down  the  river.  I  give  twenty  dollars 
for  it." 

"That  canoe  was  stolen !"  cried  Ruth,  indignantly, 
as  if  to  accuse  the  old  man. 

He  thrust  out  his  beard. 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  asked. 

"I  recognize  it!"  replied  the  girl. 

He  looked  relieved  and  smiled. 

"They's  a  good  many  models  of  the  Oldtown 
canoe  that  looks  like  that  one,  young  lady." 

The  graceful  craft  was  lying  on  its  side  so  that 
the  interior  was  exposed  more  to  their  view  than  the 
sides. 

"I'll  identify  it,"  said  Ruth,  undaunted.  "There's 
a  long  scratch  in  the  paint,  about  an  inch  from  the 
keel,  near  the  middle — we  got  stuck  on  a  rock  one 
day." 


GOOD  TURN  187 

"You  could  find  that  on  most  any  canoe,"  replied 
the  man.  , 

"Well — let  me  see — oh,  there's  candle  grease  on 
the  inside,  at  each  end!  That's  from  the  Japanese 
lanterns  we  had  there,  the  night  of  the  water-pic- 
nic," she  told  the  boys.  "And  the  name  was  painted 
on  it  in  red  letters — The  Scout!" 

At  this,  the  old  man's  eyes  opened  wide. 

"I  guess  you're  right,  lady,"  he  said.  "She's 
called  The  Scout,  all  right ;  but  I  don't  know  about 
the  scratch  and  the  candle  grease — I  never  noticed 
that!" 

"Will  you  sell  it  back  to  me,  if  you're  convinced?" 
asked  Jack. 

"Gimme  what  I  paid  for  it,  and  she's  your'n. 
Never  was  much  good  to  me,  anyhow ;  I  never  hired 
it  onc't — mostly  too  rough  for  a  canoe  in  the  river." 

"Will  it  be  all  right  if  I  pay  you  five  dollars  now, 
and  return  with  the  rest,  say  to-morrow,  and  get  the 
canoe  ?" 

"Suits  me,"  agreed  the  other. 

So  the  bargain  was  struck,  and  they  crossed  the 
room  to  examine  The  Scout.  There,  sure  enough, 
were  the  evidences  as  Ruth  had  given  them.  At  last, 
the  canoe  was  found ! 

"1  told  you  you  were  on  the  eve  of  a  great  discov- 
ery, didn't  I?"  said  Harold,  as  they  were  driving 
home. 


188  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"But  you  never  would  have  found  the  canoe,  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  me,"  corrected  Ruth. 

"Marjorie  certainly  will  be  glad!"  remarked  her 
brother. 

"Marjorie!"  cried  Ruth;  "why,  I'd  forgotten  all 
about  her — and  the  chase !" 

Then  she  fell  silent  for  a  long  time.  She  was 
thinking  of  the  medal  of  merit  Miss  Phillips  had  of- 
fered for  the  finding  of  Frieda;  and  she  could  not 
see  why,  if  no  one  were  successful,  the  finding  of 
the  canoe  might  not  be  considered  the  next  thing  to 
the  finding  of  Frieda.  It  would  be  much  better  that 
Marjorie  should  never  know  about  their  pursuit  of 
her. 

Breaking  her  silence,  she  said, 

"Promise  me,  both  of  you,  that  you  won't  tell 
Marj  how  we  chased  her  ?" 

They  both  swore  solemn  oaths. 

After  supper,  she  and  Harold  strolled  over  to  Wil- 
kinsons' to  tell  Marjorie  the  news  of  the  canoe,  for 
Jack  had  promised  to  say  nothing  about  it  until  they 
came.  But  they  found  her  singularly  unapprecia- 
tive. 

"I  knew  Frieda  sold  it  before  she  reached  Tren- 
ton," she  remarked ;  "and  I  intended  to  get  papa  to 
take  me  to  find  it  to-morrow !" 

"Of  all  the  ungrateful  people!"  snapped  Ruth,  as 
they  left  the  house.  "And  we  don't  know  yet  where 
Marj  went,"  she  added. 


GOOD  TURN  189 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ALONE   IN   THE    CITY 

AT  HEART,  Frieda  Hammer  was  not  a  bad  girl. 
But  for  all  these  years  her  moral  sense  had  remained 
undeveloped.  She  was  like  a  man  who  has  worked 
in  a  factory  all  his  life,  where  the  continuous  roar 
of  the  machinery  dulls  his  sense  of  hearing,  so  that 
all  the  finer  tones  are  lost  upon  him.  Frieda  was  so 
unaccustomed  to  the  qualities  of  unselfishness  and 
friendliness,  that  when  she  came  in  contact  with 
them  she  could  only  mistrust  them.  Ruth  Henry 
was  the  only  member  of  the  Girl  Scout  troop  that  she 
could  seem  to  understand,  for  she  was  the  only  one 
who  was  out  and  out  for  herself.  Marjorie  Wilkin- 
son was  a  puzzle  to  her,  and  always  had  been. 

And  just  as  the  man  without  an  ear  for  music 
would  not  appreciate  an  orchestra  if  he  heard  one, 
so  this  mentally-starved  girl  could  not  understand 
the  charity  and  sweetness  of  the  Scouts.  But  gradu- 
ally, under  the  influence  of  her  teacher,  of  Mrs. 
Johnson,  and  of  her  normal  life,  she  began  to  real- 
ize what  it  all  meant.  She  secretly  liked  Marjorie, 


190  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

but  she  was  too  proud  to  show  it;  instead,  she  de- 
cided to  study  hard,  and  bring  credit  to  the  Scouts. 

All  this  was  before  the  Japanese  fete.  Then,  that 
night,  like  a  harsh  discord  on  one  instrument  break- 
ing the  harmony  of  an  orchestra,  she  heard  Ruth's 
detestable  remark:  "Here  comes  Frieda  Hammer — 
look  out  for  your  jewelry!"  her  whole  nature  re- 
belled. Sick  at  heart,  and  regretting  that  she  had 
ever  allowed  the  Scouts  to  persuade  her  to  leave 
home,  she  now  wanted,  more  than  anything  else,  to 
get  away  from  them.  She  hated  them  all,  Marjorie 
included ! 

Her  first  thought  was  to  leave  immediately  for 
home,  but  upon  remembering  that  while  there  she 
was  always  unhappy  and  wishing  to  be  elsewhere,  it 
occurred  to  her  that  this  was  her  opportunity  to 
strike  out  for  herself.  Casting  about  in  her  mind 
for  some  loophole  of  escape,  she  hit  upon  the  plan 
of  stealing  Marjorie's  canoe,  paddling  down  the 
creek  till  it  joined  the  river;  and  then,  at  the  ap- 
proach of  some  town,  of  attempting  to  sell  it  for 
what  she  could  get,  and  continuing  the  remainder 
of  her  journey  to  New  York  by  train.  Why  New 
York,  rather  than  any  other  city,  she  never  stopped 
to  consider;  it  stood  out  as  the  one  town  to  which 
anyone  would  wish  to  go. 

That  this  way  of  traveling  was  much  slower  and 
more  laborious  than  setting  out  upon  foot  at  the 
outset,  never  occurred  to  her ;  it  seemed  like  an  easy 


GOOD  TURN  191 

way,  less  liable  of  detection,  and  it  appealed  to  her 
love  of  adventure.  Once  in  New  York,  she  calcu- 
lated, she  would  become  a  waitress  in  some  "swell" 
restaurant,  where  she  would  make  lots  of  money  to 
spend  for  clothes.  A  hired  girl  of  the  Brubakers 
who  had  been  a  waitress  in  New  York,  once  told  her 
of  the  lavish  tips  she  used  to  receive ;  and  the  future, 
as  Frieda  pictured  it,  seemed  particularly  rosy  and 
independent.  But  to  get  there  was  the  thing;  once 
there — almost  anything  might  happen!  Why,  some 
rich  man  might  fall  in  love  with  her  and  marry  her. 
That  she  was  but  fourteen,  and  neither  attractive  nor 
cultured,  never  entered  her  head;  she  had  always 
longed  for  adventure,  and  she  meant  to  have  it. 

Frieda  would  have  put  her  plan  into  effect  im- 
mediately, if  she  had  only  possessed  a  little  money. 
As  it  was,  she  was  afraid  to  set  out  with  an  empty 
purse.  But  when,  over  a  week  later,  the  Scouts  sent 
her  the  cash  for  her  ticket  home  at  Thanksgiving,  it 
seemed  as  if  all  obstacles  were  now  removed. 

Accordingly,  she  carried  out  her  project  the  fol- 
lowing day.  She  attended  school  in  the  morning, 
and  came  home  for  lunch  as  usual,  so  as  not  to 
arouse  suspicion;  but  shortly  after  one  o'clock,  she 
slipped  out  with  her  bag  all  packed.  And  her  most 
precious  possessions  were  Marjorie's  pink  dress  and 
sweater ! 

If  she  had  carefully  calculated  her  time,  she  could 
not  have  chosen  a  more  favorable  hour  for  escape. 


192  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

All  of  Miss  Allen's  girls,  and  the  teachers  as  well, 
were  at  luncheon,  and  the  public  school  children  were 
already  back  at  their  desks.  Finally,  one-thirty  in 
the  afternoon  was  just  the  time  that  Mrs.  Johnson 
invariably  selected  for  her  nap ! 

Cautiously  watching  the  campus,  she  untied  the 
rope,  and  stepped  into  the  canoe.  It  was  a  simple 
matter  to  paddle  across  the  lake  to  the  spot  where 
the  small  stream  joined  it;  but  it  was  a  more  difficult 
feat  to  carry  the  canoe  even  a  short  distance  on  dry 
land.  Frieda  Hammer  was  a  strong  girl,  but  had  it 
not  been  for  the  thought  of  the  price  she  could  get 
for  it,  and  the  distress  its  loss  would  bring  to  the 
Scouts,  she  would  have  cast  aside  her  heavy  burden 
then  and  there.  She  wished,  too,  that  it  had  be- 
longed to  Ruth  instead  of  to  Marjorie,  but  she  kept 
assuring  herself  that  she  was  glad  to  bring  trouble 
to  any  member  of  Pansy  troop. 

The  distance,  however,  was  short,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  she  was  back  again  on  the  water.  She  pad- 
dled on  and  on,  encountering  no  further  obstacles, 
but  was  surprised  at  the  speed  with  which  the  after- 
noon seemed  to  pass.  The  shadows  began  to 
lengthen;  and  there  was  still  no  sight  of  a  river. 
She  realized  that  soon  she  would  be  obliged  to  stop 
for  the  night.  Through  the  trees,  over  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  stream,  she  distinguished  a  house.  Per- 
haps she  might  rest  there  for  the  night ! 

It  was  the  "haunted  house"  which  the  Scouts  later 


GOOD  TURN  193 

visited,  but  Frieda  did  not  know  that.  Had  she 
heard  the  tale  of  the  ghost,  she  would  probably  have 
hesitated  before  remaining  there  alone  all  night;  but 
no  such  story  troubled  her  imagination.  She  was 
thankful  for  the  shelter  and  protection,  for  the  night 
was  chilly. 

Opening  her  bag,  she  took  out  the  hasty  lunch  she 
had  packed,  and  ate  it  greedily.  She  was  hungry 
and  tired.  A  few  minutes  later,  she  was  fast  asleep 
on  the  floor. 

She  awoke  at  dawn,  thoroughly  chilled,  but  re- 
freshed, nevertheless,  by  her  night's  sleep.  She  did 
not  lose  a  moment  in  collecting  her  things,  and  ran 
down  to  the  creek.  To  her  joy,  she  found  the  canoe 
just  where  she  had  left  it. 

The  remainder  of  the  journey,  the  sale  of  the  ca- 
noe to  the  boatman  by  the  river-front,  and  the  ride 
to  New  York,  were  accomplished  without  accident 
or  delay,  and  the  girl  finally  found  herself  in  the 
great  city — the  place  of  her  dreams! 

Perhaps  it  was  Frieda's  good  fairy,  or  perhaps  it 
was  the  answer  to  Marjorie's  prayers,  that  brought 
the  strange  girl  to  the  attention  of  the  Traveler's  Aid 
agent.  Confused  by  the  crowd,  dazzled  by  the  vast- 
ness  of  the  station,  unable  to  tell  one  direction  from 
another,  she  stood  bewildered,  seeing  steps  on  all 
sides.  What  should  she  do  ?  She  hesitated ;  turned 
around,  and  bumped  into  this  good  friend. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  said,  in  the  manner  her  teacher 


194  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

had  taught  her  at  school,  "but  could  you  tell  me  of  a 
nice  boarding  house?  I  came  here  to  work." 

The  woman  looked  at  her  kindly,  pitying  her  from 
the  bottom  of  her  heart.  To  her,  she  was  only  a 
child,  alone,  strange,  in  the  great  city  of  New  York. 

"Yes,  I  know  of  a  nice  boarding  house,"  she  re- 
plied. "But  have  you  a  place  to  work?'* 

"Not  yet!" 

"Have  you  any  money?" 

"Over  thirty  dollars!"  replied  Frieda,  to  whom 
it  was  a  princely  sum. 

Frieda  was  grateful,  indeed,  to  be  put  upon  the 
right  car,  and  to  have  in  her  hand  the  written  direc- 
tions to  the  boarding  house  which  the  agent  men- 
tioned. In  a  short  time  she  was  established  in  her 
room — a  bare  unattractive  one  on  the  fourth  floor, 
not  nearly  so  nice  as  Mrs.  Johnson's,  but  as  good  as 
she  could  afford.  She  meant  to  get  work  at  once; 
already  she  was  beginning  to  appreciate  what  the 
Girl  Scouts  had  done  for  her. 

She  walked  the  streets  for  ten  days,  without  suc- 
cess, looking  for  work.  And  then,  on  the  eleventh, 
just  when  her  money  was  beginning  to  be  exhausted, 
she  found  it.  Stating  her  age  as  seventeen,  she  ob- 
tained a  situation  as  waitress  in  an  attractive  little 
tea-room  on  Fifth  Avenue.  Under  ordinary  circum- 
stances she  would  never  have  been  able  to  get  such  a 
place,  for  the  other  girls  were  of  a  higher  type,  but 
two  waitresses  had  developed  scarlet  fever,  and  the 


GOOD  TURN  195 

proprietress  was  encountering  difficulty  in  replacing 
them. 

Frieda  was  given  a  black  sateen  dress  and  a  white 
cap  and  apron,  and  instructed  in  the  finer  points  of 
courtesy  and  service.  She  spent  some  of  her  first 
wages  for  powder  and  rouge,  and  learned  to  twist 
her  hair  up,  according  to  the  prevailing  fashion.  On 
the  whole,  she  passed  very  easily  for  seventeen  or 
eighteen. 

But  as  the  days  went  by,  she  found  her  life  sin- 
gularly monotonous.  The  proprietress  paid  the  girls 
small  salaries,  expecting  them  to  live  on  tips.  But 
Frieda  Hammer  received  very  few  tips,  for  she  was 
not  a  very  successful  waitress.  The  regular  patrons 
avoided  her  table,  and  the  newcomers  were  usually 
displeased  with  her  service,  and  tipped  her  grudg- 
ingly, or  not  at  all. 

Then,  during  the  Thanksgiving  holidays,  she 
saw  Marjorie  and  Lily,  and  a  great  longing  to  go 
back  seized  her,  a  desire  to  study  more,  and  to  accept 
the  friendship  these  Girl  Scouts  so  generously  of- 
fered. But  she  thought  of  the  canoe  and  the  money 
she  had  stolen,  and,  overcome  with  shame,  she  dis- 
appeared into  the  kitchen  to  prevent  the  girls  from 
recognizing  her. 

About  the  middle  of  December  she  lost  her  situa- 
tion, and  was  forced  to  seek  another,  without  even  a 
reference.  Christmas,  which  on  the  farm  had  meant 
little  except  what  Mrs.  Brubaker  had  done  for  her 


196  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

family,  took  on  a  new  significance  as  she  watched 
the  shops  and  the  decorations,  and  preparations 
everywhere.  In  her  imagination  she  saw  the  Christ- 
mas the  Girl  Scouts  would  have,  and  thought  of 
Mrs.  Johnson;  and  in  her  heart  she  was  homesick 
for  what  might  have  been. 

She  secured  a  temporary  position  as  wrapper  in 
a  department  store,  with  the  understanding  that  she 
would  be  dropped  after  Christmas. 

She  spent  Christmas  day  alone  in  her  room — a 
small,  bare  attic,  for  she  could  no  longer  afford  the 
comforts  of  a  boarding  house.  She  would  have 
liked  to  go  to  the  movies,  but  with  no  prospect  of 
work,  and  not  any  too  much  money  on  hand,  she 
dared  not  risk  the  expense. 

All  during  the  following  week  she  looked  for 
work,  but  could  find  none;  for  everywhere  places 
were  discharging,  instead  of  taking  on,  girls. 

And  then  the  new  year  brought  her  the  letter  from 
Marjorie ! 

Marjorie  had  pictured  Frieda  now  as  a  sullen,  suc- 
cessful, working-girl,  ready  to  scorn  any  advances 
on  her  part.  She  dreaded  lest  the  girl  would  tear  up 
the  letter  before  she  read  it.  But  she  never  thought 
of  her  hugging  and  kissing  it,  as  a  veritable  bond 
between  her  and  the  rest  of  mankind. 

Frieda  read  the  letter  over  and  over,  gradually  de- 
veloping a  plan.  She  would  go  back  to  Trenton,  get 
work  if  possible,  and  save  to  buy  back  the  canoe. 


GOOD  TURN  197 

Then,  when  it  was  paid  for,  and  she  had  enough 
money,  she  would  paddle  back  to  Miss  Allen's,  re- 
turn the  fifteen  dollars  and  beg  the  forgiveness  of 
Marjorie  and  the  rest  of  the  Scouts.  The  thought 
of  beginning  all  over  again  inspired  her  with  happi- 
ness— the  first  real  happiness  she  had  felt  since  her 
arrival  in  New  York! 

She  next  discovered  a  way  to  go  to  Trenton  by 
trolley;  and  accordingly,  the  next  morning  she  paid 
her  bill  and  started  off.  For  the  time  being,  she 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  Ruth  Henry;  all  that  she 
thought  of  was  how  Marjorie  Wilkinson  would  re- 
ceive her  when  she  finally  saw  her. 

She  reached  Trenton  in  the  afternoon,  and  hunted 
a  room.  Fortunately,  she  still  had  enough  money  to 
pay  in  advance.  Leaving  her  belongings,  she  set  out 
in  the  direction  of  the  boat-houses,  to  ascertain 
whether  the  canoe  was  still  there.  But  on  her  way 
she  passed  a  large  mill,  before  the  entrance  of  which 
hung  a  sign,  "Girls  Wanted;"  and  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  she  went  in,  and  secured  trial  em- 
ployment. 

With  a  light  heart,  she  crossed  the  bridge  to  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  Walking  down  a  short  dis- 
tance, she  espied  several  old  men  along  the  shore. 

"There  he  is!"  she  thought,  as  she  caught  sight  of 
the  white  beard  that  had  attracted  her  before.  She 
looked  around  expectantly  for  the  canoe,  but  did  not 
see  it  among  the  boats. 


198  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Good  afternoon!"  she  said  pleasantly,  adopting 
the  manner  she  had  been  taught  to  use  in  the  restau- 
rant. "Several  months  ago  I  sold  you  my  canoe.  I 
wonder  if  I  could  buy  it  back  at  the  same  price?" 

The  man  eyed  her  narrowly,  while  his  mouth 
curled  into  a  snarl. 

"Your  canoe,  eh?  Your  canoe!  I  happen  to 
know  you  stole  that  canoe — it  never  was  yours !" 

The  girl  recoiled  as  if  he  had  struck  her.  How 
could  he  know  ?  Were  policemen  on  her  trail  ?  She 
shuddered  with  apprehension.  Then,  drawing  her- 
self up  with  dignity,  she  inquired  haughtily, 

"And  from  who  did  you  get  your  information?" 

"A  gal  and  two  boys  in  an  auto  stopped  here  to 
fix  a  puncture,  and  suddenly  the  gal  seen  the  canoe, 
and  recognized  it.  'Where' d  you  get  that?'  she 
asked. 

"  'Some  gal  paddled  up  here  in  it  and  sold  it/  I 
replied. 

"  'Wai  it  weren't  her'n  to  sell/  the  gal  says. 
'She's  nuthin'  but  a  common  thief — that's  what  she 
is!' 

"And  she  paid  me  five  dollars  to  save  it  for  her, 
and  the  next  day  they  drove  up  with  more  money, 
and  took  it  away. 

"Now,  I  ain't  sayin'  nuthin'  on  you,  but  I  advise 
you  not  to  talk  about  your  canoe  no  more !" 

"Oh,  indeed !"  said  Frieda,  scarcely  able  to  choke 


GOOD  TURN  199 

back  the  tears.     And,  turning  hastily  around,  she 
walked  over  to  the  bridge. 

But  she  could  never  go  back  to  the  Scouts  now ; 
she  as  a  "common  thief;"  she  had  better  stay  and 
work  alone ! 


200  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   SLEIGH   RIDE 

THE  first  Scout  meeting  after  the  girls  returned 
from  the  holidays  was  teeming  with  excitement. 
Ruth  Henry  reported  that  she  had  found  the  canoe ; 
and  received,  to  her  delight,  great  applause.  Mar- 
jorie  revealed  what  she  knew  about  Frieda,  omitting 
to  tell  about  the  letter  she  wrote  to  the  girl ;  and  Miss 
Phillips  informed  them  that  they  still  had  three  hun- 
dred dollars  in  the  treasury. 

"Now  for  the  new  patrols,"  she  announced;  "I 
know  you  are  all  interested.  The  three  girls  with 
the  highest  Scout  standing,  besides  Edith  Evans 
who  will  continue  to  act  as  Lieutenant,  are  Mar- 
jorie  Wilkinson,  Helen  Stewart,  and  Ruth  Henry. 
Ethel  Todd  came  fourth;  if  we  should  get  enough 
girls  for  a  new  patrol,  she  would  be  the  leader." 

When  the  clapping  had  subsided,  these  girls,  with 
their  Captain,  withdrew  to  choose  patrol  members. 
Ruth  smiled;  it  was  funny  that  she  and  Marjorie 
who  were  rivals  in  everything,  ever  since  they  had 


GOOD  TURN  201 

come  to  Miss  Allen's,  should  again  be  opposed  to 
each  other. 

The  patrol  leaders  chose  their  members,  not  so 
much  for  their  ability  as  for  their  personality.  For 
this  reason,  Helen  Stewart's  patrol  included  the  five 
senior  Scouts,  Vivien  VanSciver,  and  two  freshmen 
— Florence  Evans  and  her  room-mate,  Mildred 
Cavin.  Marjorie's  included  Lily,  Ethel,  Frances, 
Marian,  Doris,  Alice  Endicott,  and  Daisy  Gravers. 
And  Ruth's,  of  course,  comprised  her  own  follow- 
ing: Ada  Mearns,  Barbara  Hill,  Mae  VanHorn, 
Evelyn  Hopkins  and  three  girls  she  did  not  know  so 
well — Anna  Cane,  Dorothy  Whitcomb,  and  Gladys 
Staley. 

As  soon  as  the  patrols  were  announced,  Miss  Phil- 
lips talked  to  them  about  keeping  up  the  standards 
of  each  patrol :  promptness,  industry  in  Scout  work, 
etc.,  saying  that  whichever  patrol  won  the  highest 
standing  by  the  end  of  the  year  would  be  senior  pa- 
trol the  next  year.  For  the  present,  Helen's  division 
was  to  have  this  honor. 

"For  two  months  now,"  continued  the  Captain, 
after  the  excitement  had  died  down,  "we  shall  do 
nothing  but  Scout  work.  Each  girl  is  to  prepare  for 
the  next  test  higher  up. 

"And,  of  course,  you  have  not  forgotten  the  trip 
to  Washington.  During  spring  vacation,  I  shall  take 
the  first  eight  girls  who  have  passed  their  first-class 
test ;  so  I  want  you  all  to  get  to  work.  All  the  girls 


202  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

who  were  in  the  troop  last  year,  and  are  now  second- 
class  Scouts,  are  eligible.  All  who  went  to  camp 
passed  the  first-aid  division  of  the  examination ;  they 
are  not  required  to  take  that  over  again.  I  should, 
therefore,  advise  the  following  Scouts  to  get  to 
work: 

"Edith  Evans,  Elsie  Lorimer,  Emily  Rankin, 
Mary  Ridgeway,  Frances  Wright,  Ethel  Todd,  Ma- 
rian Guard,  Ada  Mearns,  Lily  Andrews,  Ruth 
Henry,  Doris  Sands,  Marjorie  Wilkinson. 

"I  wish  I  could  take  all  twelve,"  she  concluded; 
"but  I  suppose  it's  more  fun  because  of  the  compe- 
tition." 

"I'm  going  to  stay  up  every  night,  all  night !"  de- 
clared Ruth ;  "just  studying  to  pass !" 

"So  long  as  you  don't  kidnap  any  more  children, 
Ruth,  you're  all  right!"  tantalized  Ada,  who  could 
never  forget  Ruth's  vain  attempt  the  previous  sum- 
mer to  pass  the  first-class  examination. 

Dismissing  the  subject,  Miss  Phillips  remarked, 

"You  know,  Miss  Martin  wanted  our  troop  to 
come  over  and  demonstrate  Scouting  early  in  the 
fall,  but  I  wouldn't  go  until  we  had  three  patrols. 
Then,  on  account  of  the  rush  of  Christmas  time,  we 
put  it  off  until  after  the  new  year.  So — be  prepared 
for  a  shock — we  are  going  to-morrow  afternoon!" 

"To-morrow  afternoon!"  echoed  Ethel.  "But 
Captain " 


GOOD  TURN  203 

"I  know,  Ethel ;  I  realize  I  am  asking  a  great  deal. 
But  listen  to  my  reasons : 

"First,  the  date  suits  Miss  Martin ;  second,  it  suits 
Mr.  Remington  and  the  Boy  Scouts;  and  third,  it's 
going  to  snow." 

The  girls  listened  in  open-mouthed  amazement  to 
these  reasons.  What  could  the  Boy  Scouts,  Mr. 
Remington,  and  the  condition  of  the  weather — es- 
pecially a  stormy  one — have  to  do  with  a  trip  to 
Miss  Martin's?  But  no  one  uttered  a  sound;  the 
girls  simply  waited  for  an  explanation,  for  they  all 
thought  they  had  not  heard  their  Captain  correctly. 

Miss  Phillips  evidently  enjoyed  their  consterna- 
tion, for  she  made  no  attempt  to  explain. 

"Can  everybody  go?"  she  asked. 

"Must  everybody  go,  Captain?"  asked  Ethel.  "I 
had  another  engagement " 

"Oh,  if  there  is  anything  you  can't  break,  like  a 
dentist  appointment " 

"No,  it's  social!" 

"Then  you  must  choose  for  yourself.  We  should 
love  to  have  you,  but  we  can  get  along  without  any- 
one except  the  three  patrol  leaders.  But  I  am  pretty 
sure  I  can  guarantee  you  a  good  time." 

"I  know  it  will  be !"  cried  Ruth,  her  eyes  dancing 
with  anticipation.  "Don't  we  just  remember  how 
lovely  all  our  Captain's  other  surprises  turned  out  to 
be?" 

In  the  end,  Ethel,  as  well  as  everybody  else,  de- 


204  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

cided  to  go.  The  mention  of  a  snowstorm  and  of 
the  Boy  Scouts  proved  too  alluring  to  pass  by. 

"Wear  your  Scout  suits,  take  sweaters,  and  wear 
woolen  caps  and  heavy  coats,"  Miss  Phillips  di- 
rected. 

The  weather  man's  prediction  of  snow  was  cor- 
rect, for  when  the  girls  awakened  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing, they  found  everything  white.  By  the  time  lunch 
was  over,  however,  it  had  completely  stopped  snow- 
ing, and  the  paths  were  comparatively  clear. 

The  girls  gathered  expectantly  in  the  hall,  dressed 
according  to  their  Captain's  directions. 

"Are  we  going  to  hike?"  asked  Frances,  looking 
about  in  vain  for  Miss  Phillips. 

The  jingle  of  sleighbells  in  front  of  the  door  gave 
an  answer  to  this  question.  Rushing  outside,  the 
girls  beheld  two  sleighs,  big  enough  to  carry  all  the 
troop.  Miss  Phillips  herself  was  already  seated  in 
the  front  of  one  of  them,  beside  the  driver,  and  was 
enjoying  to  the  full  the  Scouts'  rapturous  surprise. 

"Now  we  understand  about  the  snow!"  cried 
Frances,  jumping  up  eagerly  beside  the  Captain. 
"But  where  do  the  Boy  Scouts  come  in  ?" 

"They  don't  come  in  the  sleigh  at  all,"  laughed 
Miss  Phillips;  "there  wouldn't  be  room !" 

The  girls  knew  it  was  no  use  to  try  to  satisfy  their 
curiosity  by  asking  their  Captain  questions.  So  they 
gave  themselves  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  ride. 

The  air  was  now  clear  and  bracing,  the  country 


GOOD  TURN  205 

beautiful,  and  the  sleighs  seemed  to  fly  along.  Lily 
Andrews,  who  had  always  lived  in  New  York  City, 
and  one  or  two  others,  had  never  experienced  the 
sensation  before;  the  smooth,  gliding  motion  filled 
them  with  delight.  All  too  soon  the  hour  passed, 
and  they  reached  Miss  Martin's. 

"I  wish  it  were  twice  as  far!"  cried  Marjorie. 
Then,  catching  sight  of  some  girls  of  the  other 
school,  she  changed  her  tone  and  called  out  a  greet- 
ing. 

Miss  Martin's  whole  school  turned  out  to  wel- 
come them;  they  invited  them  into  their  parlors, 
where  steaming  cocoa  and  cinnamon  toast  were 
served.  The  girls  were  hungry,  and,  in  spite  of  their 
protestations,  somewhat  cold ;  but  they  soon  warmed 
themselves  before  the  cheerful  fireplaces  and  drank 
the  hot  cocoa. 

It  was  nearly  four  o'clock  when  they  began  their 
demonstration.  There  had  been  no  special  prepara- 
tion; Miss  Phillips  announced  that  she  would  call 
for  events  as  she  thought  of  them. 

She  summoned  different  girls  for  signalling,  first- 
aid,  knot-tying,  resuscitation,  etc.,  including  all  the 
Scouts  in  the  recitation  of  the  laws  and  pledge.  To 
no  girl  did  she  give  any  special  distinction  and  on 
account  of  this  Ruth  was  disappointed.  She  had 
hoped  that  Miss  Phillips  would  single  out  the  Pa- 
trol leaders  and  place  them  in  a  position  of  honor 
above  all  the  others.  Marjorie  was  well  known  to 


206  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

all  the  girls  at  Miss  Martin's  because  of  her  brilliant 
athletic  record ;  Ruth  wished  the  girls  to  know  that 
she  was  equally  important.  But  Miss  Phillips  never 
mentioned  them. 

As  soon  as  the  little  celebration  was  over,  the  girls 
took  the  Scouts  over  the  school.  Miss  Martin's 
seminary  was  very  much  like  Miss  Allen's,  although 
not  so  progressive,  or  of  quite  so  high  a  standard. 
More  of  the  latter's  graduates  attended  colleges ;  but 
it  was  both  older  and  larger  than  Miss  Martin's. 

"You'll  find  that  you  never  made  a  mistake  in 
starting  a  troop,"  remarked  Miss  Phillips,  after  she 
had  explained  a  great  many  details  to  Miss  Watson, 
who  was  to  be  Captain.  "And  it  will  be  lots  of  fun 
for  the  two  schools.  I  have  my  plans  all  ready  for 
this  summer,  but  perhaps  next  summer  both  troops 
could  go  to  an  organized  camp  together." 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  this  summer?"  asked 
Ruth,  who  had  overheard  part  of  the  conversation. 

"Wait  and  see!"  replied  Miss  Phillips,  mysteri- 
ously. "You  will  know  pretty  soon !" 

Regarding  this  almost  as  a  rebuke,  Ruth  muttered 
disagreeably, 

"Just  so  we  don't  waste  any  more  money  on 
thieves,  I'll  be  satisfied,"  and  turned  away. 

Miss  Phillips  did  not  overhear  the  remark,  but 
Mar j one  did,  and  it  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 

"Say,  Ruth,"  she  remarked,  rather  tartly,  "why 
don't  you  win  that  medal  catching  Frieda?" 


GOOD  TURN  207 

Ruth  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"I  did  more  than  anybody  else  by  finding  the  ca- 
noe," she  replied.  "I  guess  nobody  else  has  a  better 
claim  to  the  medal  than  I  have !" 

After  an  early  supper,  the  Scouts  wrapped  up 
warmly  again,  and  climbed  merrily  into  the  sleighs, 
bound,  as  they  surmised,  toward  Miss  Allen's.  The 
horses  had  been  fed  and  rested;  the  snow  on  the 
road  was  packed  hard;  the  stars  twinkled  brightly, 
and  the  whole  world  glistened  in  the  star-light.  But 
the  ride  was  shorter  than  before,  for  after  half  an 
hour  the  horses  turned  into  a  big  gate.  They  were 
entering  the  grounds  of  Episcopal  Academy,  the 
home  of  the  Boy  Scouts ! 

Before  they  had  pulled  up  to  a  standstill,  the  doors 
were  thrown  open  by  the  boys,  who  were  uttering 
great  shouts  of  welcome.  The  girls  jumped  joyfully 
to  the  ground. 

"The  Girl  Scouts  don't  know  what  they're  here 
for,"  laughed  Miss  Phillips,  while  they  were  remov- 
ing their  wraps.  "They  think  it's  a  party !" 

"Isn't  it?"  asked  Marjorie,  quite  distressed. 

"For  some  of  the  girls,  but  not  for  you !"  replied 
the  Captain,  significantly.  "All  the  Scouts  who  wish 
to  qualify  for  first-class  test  are  to  take  signalling 
with  Mr.  Remington.  The  rest  of  us  will  stay  here 
for  games." 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  Ruth,  sinking  down  in  her  chair. 
"How  could  you,  Captain?" 


208  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Why  didn't  you  warn  us?"  demanded  Ethel. 

"I  didn't  want  to  make  you  nervous,  or  to  spoil 
this  afternoon's  ride.  Now  listen  while  I  read  the 
names  of  the  girls  who  are  to  take  the  test."  And 
she  proceeded  to  read  the  list  of  girls  whom  she  had 
previously  announced  as  qualified.  "I  would  like 
those  twelve  girls,"  she  concluded,  "to  follow  Mr. 
Remington  to  his  office." 

Marjorie  arose  with  the  others,  and  did  as  her 
Captain  directed;  but  with  each  step  that  took  her 
nearer  to  the  place  of  the  examination,  she  felt  her- 
self losing  courage. 

"Your  handbook  requires  that  you  be  able  to  send 
and  receive  semaphore  at  the  rate  of  thirty-two  let- 
ters a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Remington,  when  they  were 
all  finally  seated  in  the  Boy  Scout  room ;  "but  Miss 
Phillips  tells  me  the  requirement  has  been  lowered 
by  National  Headquarters  to  sixteen.  I  shall,  there- 
fore, pass  all  of  the  girls  who  can  receive  at  the  lat- 
ter rate,  but  shall  later  test  to  see  whether  anyone 
can  make  the  higher  record." 

He  proceeded  to  give  the  required  examinations 
in  both  the  semaphore  and  the  Morse  codes,  making 
them  strict,  as  Miss  Phillips  had  directed.  Only 
four  of  the  twelve  girls  passed  on  both  codes — Edith 
Evans,  Ruth  Henry,  Ethel  Todd,  and  Marjorie  Wil- 
kinson. And,  to  Mr.  Remington's  amazement,  all  of 
these  girls  passed  the  more  difficult  standard  of 
thirty-two  letters  a  minute ! 


GOOD  TURN  209 

"I  think  you  have  all  earned  a  chance  to  dance!" 
he  said,  leading  the  way  back  to  the  big  parlor  where 
the  rest  of  the  young  people  were  enjoying  them- 
selves. 

And  Mar j one  and  Ruth  both  danced  with  happy 
hearts,  for  they  felt  that  the  most  difficult  part  of 
their  first-class  test  was  behind  them,  and  their  trip 
to  Washington  practically  assured. 


210  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    TRIP   TO   WASHINGTON" 

Miss  PHILLIPS  had  feared  that  more  than  eight 
girls  would  qualify  as  first-class  Scouts,  and  that, 
therefore,  some  would  be  disappointed  at  not  being 
included  in  the  Washington  trip ;  but  she  found  that, 
as  the  weeks  went  by,  fewer  girls  than  she  had  an- 
ticipated became  elegible.  Under  the  rigid  stand- 
ards of  the  new  handbook  it  was  no  easy  matter  to 
become  a  first-class  Scout.  It  was  true  that  four 
girls  had  successfully  passed  the  signalling,  but  of 
these  four,  only  Ruth  had  made  an  acceptable  map. 
For  this  reason  it  came  about,  just  as  she  desired, 
that  she  was  the  first  Scout  of  Pansy  troop  to  receive 
that  honor. 

When  she  was  presented  with  the  badge  at  the  fol- 
lowing Scout  meeting,  she  made  no  pretense  at 
modesty.  With  a  self-satisfied  air,  she  strutted  for- 
ward in  answer  to  her  Captain's  summons.  "The 
first-class  Scout  of  Pansy  troop!"  her  manner  an- 
nounced, as  plainly  as  if  she  had  uttered  the  very 
words. 


GOOD  TURN  211 

"And  I'll  be  the  first  Golden  Eaglet !"  she  resolved, 
as  she  returned  after  the  presentation.  For  it  was 
characteristic  of  Ruth  Henry  that  she  always  kept  a 
goal  in  view. 

Early  in  February,  Marjorie,  Edith,  and  Ethel 
fulfilled  the  requirements  and  received  their  badges, 
outwardly  more  humbly,  though  secretly  they  were 
as  proud  as  Ruth.  Their  finer  sensibilities,  however, 
kept  them  from  openly  gloating. 

Two  more  weeks  went  by,  and  all  the  while  Miss 
Phillips  grew  increasingly  anxious.  The  money  was 
provided  for  eight;  the  opportunity  was  precious! 
Would  she  be  obliged  to  take  only  four  girls  because 
all  the  other  twenty  Scouts,  members  of  her  own 
troop,  were  too  lazy  or  too  stupid  to  pass  the  test? 
The  idea  was  distasteful ;  at  every  meeting  she  urged 
them  on  to  increased  activity. 

A  week  later,  she  was  partially  rewarded,  for 
Frances  Wright  and  Lily  Andrews  became  first-class 
Scouts.  Now  Marjorie  was  happy;  she  could  not 
imagine  a  trip  of  this  sort  without  her  beloved  room- 
mate. Lily,  however,  was  a  plodder,  and  while  she 
was  never  among  the  foremost  ranks,  it  was  seldom 
that  she  was  left  out  altogether. 

"And  now  if  we  could  only  get  Doris!"  remarked 
Marjorie,  when  she  and  Lily  were  privately  celebrat- 
ing the  latter's  victory.  "The  party  wouldn't  be 
complete  without  her." 

"She   made  a  marvelous  map  at   camp,"   com- 


212  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

mented  Lily.    "I  wonder  what  is  keeping  her  back  ?" 

"Signaling,  I  think.  I  say,  Lil,  couldn't  we  just 
make  her  practice  till  she  passes?  We  have  two 
weeks  yet !" 

"Great  idea,  Marj !"  agreed  her  room-mate ;  and 
the  two  girls  hurried  off  that  very  minute  to  put  the 
plan  into  action. 

Doris  accepted  the  help  gratefully,  and  practiced 
the  letters  steadily  until  her  ability  had  so  materially 
improved  that  she  felt  qualified  to  take  the  test.  To 
the  infinite  satisfaction  of  all  concerned,  she  passed 
— two  days  before  the  girls  were  scheduled  to  leave. 
And,  at  the  same  time,  Helen  Stewart  fulfilled  the 
requirements  and  brought  the  party  to  the  desired 
number  of  nine. 

The  girls  preferred  not  to  wear  their  Scout  uni- 
forms on  the  train,  but  carried  them  along  in  case 
they  might  need  them  for  some  official  occasion. 
Miss  Phillips  said  that  she  rather  hoped  there  might 
be  a  Scout  rally  while  they  were  there,  thus  afford- 
ing them  a  chance  to  meet  other  Girl  Scouts. 

"How  do  you  want  to  room  ?"  she  asked,  as  they 
were  waiting  in  the  station.  "A  letter  from  the 
hotel  says  that  there  are  three  bed-rooms  and  a  bath 
together  on  one  side  of  the  hall,  and  two — one  is  a 
single  room  for  me — on  the  other.  Now  who  is 
rooming  with  whom  ?" 

"Marj  and  I  are  together !"  cried  Lily,  proudly. 

"Frances  and  I,"  announced  Ethel  Todd. 


GOOD  TURN  213 

"Doris  and  I,"  said  Ruth. 

"So  Edith  and  Helen  must  be,"  laughed  Miss 
Phillips.  "Well,  that  works  out  very  well.  Now 
she  wants  to  come  across  the  hall  with  me,  and  who 
wants  to  stay  on  the  other  side  ?" 

"Oh,  let  Lil  and  me  be  with  you !"  exclaimed  Mar- 
jorie,  eagerly;  and  as  she  was  the  first  to  speak  for 
the  honor,  none  of  the  others  protested. 

With  the  exception  of  Edith  and  Miss  Phillips, 
none  of  the  party  had  ever  visited  Washington  be- 
fore, and  the  trip  from  the  start  was  filled  with  in- 
terest. The  girls  watched  everything  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  laughed  and  chatted  all  the  way.  Since  it 
was  vacation,  and  a  party,  Miss  Phillips  permitted 
candy,  and  before  they  had  gone  very  far  Lily  pro- 
duced a  beautiful  box  which  her  father  had  sent  to 
her  that  very  day. 

They  reached  the  hotel  in  time  for  dinner  Thurs- 
day evening.  The  rooms,  with  their  soft  carpets, 
their  luxurious  chairs,  pretty  electric  lights  and  com- 
fortable beds  were  a  novelty  to  most  of  the  Scouts. 

Sitting  at  the  hotel  table,  listening  to  the  music 
while  they  ate,  and  ordering  from  the  menu  cards, 
proved  a  delightful  experience.  The  girls  could 
scarcely  eat,  so  interested  were  they  in  looking 
around  the  big  dining-room,  watching  the  people, 
and  now  and  then  catching  sight  of  themselves  in  the 
many  mirrors  about  the  walls ;  and  all  the  while  con- 


THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

scious  of  the  delicate  odor  of  roses  and  the  swinging 
rhythm  of  the  music. 

"I  think  it  would  be  fun  enough  to  stay  in  a  hotel 
for  three  days,"  remarked  Ethel,  sipping  her  con- 
somme, "without  doing  another  single  thing!'* 

"But  our  friend  and  benefactor  wouldn't  be  satis- 
fied with  that,"  remarked  Miss  Phillips.  "We  are 
to  see  and  learn  things  as  well." 

"Oh,  please  tell  us  who  it  is !"  cried  Ruth,  almost 
swallowing  her  olive  in  her  haste  to  satisfy  her  curi- 
osity. 

"I  dare  not !    I  promised !" 

"My,  how  you  do  love  mysteries,  Captain!"  ob- 
served Ethel. 

"Is  it  a  man?"  pursued  Ruth. 

Miss  Phillips  hesitated.  "Yes,  it  is.  I'll  tell  you 
that  much.  And  I'll  tell  you  something  more.  He 
has  promised  to  equip  the  girls  for  a  canoe  trip  this 
summer,  if  they  win  the  Pioneer  badge!" 

"A  canoe  trip!"  repeated  Marjorie.  "Oh,  how 
wonderful !" 

"It  will  be  a  nice  change  from  regular  camping," 
said  Miss  Phillips.  "But  the  pioneer  test  is  a  diffi- 
cult one." 

The  girls  discussed  it  for  a  while,  and,  after  sup- 
per was  over,  went  up  to  their  rooms.  They  were 
too  tired  even  to  go  to  the  movies,  but  Miss  Phillips 
had  brought  cards,  and  they  played  a  rubber  of 
bridge  before  seeking  their  beds. 


GOOD  TURN  215 

They  were  up  early  the  next  morning  to  find  the 
dining-room  almost  empty.  Again  they  had  the  fun 
of  ordering  "the  things  we  don't  get  at  Miss  Al- 
len's," as  they  themselves  put  it,  and  the  meal  passed 
pleasantly. 

Most  of  the  day  was  spent  in  sight-seeing.  They 
visited  the  White  House,  and  the  Capitol ;  stopped  at 
the  Smithsonian  Institute  and  laughed  over  the 
dresses  the  Presidents'  wives  had  worn ;  took  the  ele- 
vator to  the  top  of  Washington  Monument;  and, 
after  luncheon,  rode  to  Mt.  Vernon.  It  meant  a 
great  deal  to  them  to  see  all  the  places  they  had  read 
so  much  about. 

They  came  back  to  the  hotel  tired ;  but  a  bath,  fif- 
teen minutes'  rest,  and  fresh  clothing,  revived  them ; 
and  at  dinner  they  were  as  gay  as  usual.  In  the  eve- 
ning they  went  to  the  theater. 

On  Saturday  they  took  a  sight-seeing  bus  about 
the  city  and  ended  up  at  the  Girl  Scout  Headquar- 
ters. 

All  of  the  girls  were  tremendously  excited  as  they 
walked  into  the  office ;  it  was  the  first  time  they  had 
ever  met  other  officers,  or  visited  any  Scout  office. 
Fortunately,  Miss  Phillips  had  insisted  this  time 
that  they  all  wear  their  Scout  uniforms,  and  in  these 
they  felt  more  at  ease. 

Instead  of  finding  only  one  or  two  officials,  the 
place  was  crowded  with  them.  The  girls  stepped 
back  shyly,  while  Miss  Phillips  made  the  advances. 


216  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"We  are  Girl  Scouts  from  Miss  Allen's  Boarding 
School — in  Pennsylvania,"  she  explained,;  "we're 
seeing  Washington,  and,  of  course,  we  couldn't  miss 
the  Girl  Scout  Headquarters." 

The  hostesses  were  most  cordial,  showing  the  girls 
everything,  and  then  inviting  them  to  a  big  rally  that 
afternoon. 

"That  reminds  me,"  remarked  one  of  the  officers, 
who  was  evidently  a  representative  from  National 
Headquarters  in  New  York  City,  "I  have  a  list  of 
Girl  Scouts  here,  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  who 
want  to  correspond  with  other  Girl  Scouts.  Would 
you  girls,  any  of  you,  like  to  take  some  names?" 

Marjorie  was  the  first  to  accept  the  suggestion. 
"Oh,  I  would !"  she  cried.  "That  would  be  lots  of 
fun!" 

The  officer  handed  the  list  to  her,  and  the  girls  all 
crowded  about  to  read  the  names,  hoping  that  per- 
haps they  might  come  across  one  that  they  knew. 
But,  recognizing  none,  they  selected  at  random, 
while  Marjorie  placed  checks  here  and  there  in  the 
list. 

While  she  was  still  thus  occupied,  her  eye  fell  sud- 
denly upon  a  name  which  seemed  familiar.  It 
aroused  a  vague  sort  of  expectation  within  her,  as  of 
some  old  association.  Where  had  she  heard  it  be- 
fore :  "Jennie  Perkins,"  Trenton,  N.  J.  ? 

She  wrinkled  her  brows  for  a  moment,  lost  in 
thought.  But  her  uncertainty  lasted  only  a  second; 


GOOD  TURN  217 

in  a  flash,  the  significance  of  it  dawned  upon  her. 
That  was  the  assumed  name  under  which  Frieda 
Hammer  must  have  worked  at  that  Fifth  Avenue 
tea-room!  Could  this  girl — evidently  a  Scout,  and 
living  in  Trenton — possibly  be  Frieda?  Marjorie's 
heart  leaped  for  joy,  but  she  resolutely  put  down  her 
hopes.  The  whole  thing  was  most  improbable.  The 
girl  might  easily  return  to  Trenton  in  quest  of  work, 
but  Marjorie  knew  that  her  former  dislike  of  their 
troop,  particularly  of  Ruth  Henry,  would  prejudice 
her  against  ever  becoming  a  Girl  Scout.  And  Frieda 
Hammer  had  never  showed  any  signs  of  sociability ; 
she  was  the  last  girl  in  the  world  to  desire  to  make 
new  friends  by  writing  to  unknown  correspondents. 

Still,  Marjorie  decided,  she  might  as  well  select 
this  name  as  any,  for  all  were  unknown  to  her.  She 
had  nothing  whatever  to  lose,  and  there  was  one 
chance  in  a  thousand  that  "Jenme  Perkins"  might  be 
Frieda.  Hastily  making  a  check  beside  the  name, 
she  returned  the  list  to  the  officer. 

Although  Miss  Phillips  had  intended  to  take  the 
girls  home  after  luncheon,  she  changed  her  mind  at 
their  entreaties,  and  allowed  them  to  remain  for  the 
rally. 

It  was  a  magnificent  sight  to  behold  hundreds  of 
Girl  Scouts,  all  dressed  in  uniform,  gather  together 
in  the  great  hall,  and  to  hear  them  join,  as  in  one 
voice,  in  the  pledge  to  the  flag  and  the  oath  of  the 
organization.  More  than  one  of  the  members  of 


218  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

Pansy  troop  felt  a  tightening  sensation  at  their 
throats  when  the  great  throng  of  girls  sang  the  "Star 
Spangled  Banner."  The  meeting  brought  to  them 
an  impression  that  they  would  never  forget,  and 
prepared  them  in  one  way  to  realize  what  it  would 
mean  to  be  part  of  a  great  organized  camp. 

They  left  the  hall  as  soon  as  the  address  was  over, 
in  order  that  they  might  make  an  early  train  home ; 
for,  instead  of  returning  to  Miss  Allen's  school,  each 
girl  was  to  go  to  her  own  home,  and  Miss  Phillips 
was  anxious  that  they  all  reach  their  destinations 
before  dark. 

The  rally  had  been  the  most  fitting  conclusion  that 
Miss  Phillips  could  have  conceived.  She  realized 
this  when  she  saw  how  deeply  it  had  impressed  the 
girls. 

"A  glorious  end  of  a  glorious  trip !"  said  Ethel  en- 
thusiastically, as  they  got  into  the  train. 

And  the  shining  eyes  of  the  others  confirmed  their 
approval  of  her  opinion. 


GOOD  TURH  219 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LETTERS 

MARJORIE  could  hardly  wait  until  she  reached 
home,  so  excited  was  she  about  writing  to  the  un- 
known Girl  Scout.  It  would  be  a  difficult  matter, 
too,  for  she  wanted  to  write  a  general  letter,  and  yet 
one  which,  if  Jennie  Perkins  should  by  any  chance 
turn  out  to  be  Frieda  Hammer,  would  be  appropri- 
ate. 

The  family  were  all  so  glad  to  see  her  and  so 
anxious  to  hear  about  the  trip,  that  she  at  once  gave 
up  the  idea  of  writing  that  night.  Of  course,  her 
mother  would  expect  her  to  go  to  church  the  fol- 
lowing day ;  but  after  Sunday  School  she  would  un- 
doubtedly be  free. 

But  again  her  hopes  were  frustrated.  Ruth 
sought  her  immediately  after  class  and  walked  home 
with  her. 

"Let's  go  for  a  walk,  Marj,"  she  said.  "Harold's 
coming  over  for  me  at  your  house,  and  I  thought 
maybe  Jack  would  go,  too." 

Marjorie  frowned  slightly;  she  did  not  partial- 


220  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

larly  enjoy  Harold  Mason's  society,  and  she  did  so 
long  to  write  that  letter.  But  she  did  not  care  to  dis- 
close any  of  her  plans  to  Ruth;  she  had  no  desire  to 
encounter  her  ridicule. 

"All  right;  if  we  don't  stay  out  late.  I  asked 
mother  to  have  an  early  supper,  for  I  want  to  write 
letters  to-night !" 

"John  Hadley  ?"  teased  Ruth.  "By  the  way,  Har- 
old knows  him.  He  goes  to  Princeton,  too,  now." 

"He  does!    You  never  told  me " 

"I  never  thought  you  were  particularly  interested 
in  Harold  Mason,  Marj !" 

"Only  as  your  friend,  Ruth,"  laughed  Marjorie. 

The  walk,  just  as  Marjorie  anticipated,  was  not 
particularly  interesting  to  her.  Ruth  monopolized 
the  conversation,  succeeding  in  keeping  both  boys 
entertained  by  giving  it  a  decidedly  personal  flavor. 
As  Marjorie  was  almost  entirely  left  out,  she  be- 
came bored,  and  grew  impatient  to  get  back.  At 
last,  when  they  were  home,  she  told  her  mother  she 
was  going  to  lock  herself  in  her  room  that  evening 
to  avoid  disturbance. 

It  was  only  after  a  great  many  attempts  that  she 
produced  a  letter  which  met  with  her  own  satisfac 
tion.  She  wanted  it  to  be  long  enough,  yet  not  too 
long;  appropriate  for  any  Girl  Scout,  and  also,  if 
Jennie  Perkins  should  turn  out  to  be  Frieda,  applic- 
able and  friendly  towards  the  runaway. 


GOOD  TURN  221 

"I'm  just  going  to  send  this,"  she  thought; 
"there's  no  use  writing  it  over." 

She  held  it  up,  however,  and  read  it  through  for 
the  third  time. 


JENNIE, 

"I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  using  your  first  name 
right  at  the  beginning,  but  since  we  are  both  Girl 
Scouts  —  really  sisters,  you  know  —  I  think  it  would 
be  nice  to  get  well  acquainted  right  away! 

"What  kind  of  a  troop  do  you  belong  to?  What 
is  your  flower  name?  And  how  many  girls  are  there 
in  it?  It  just  seems  as  if  I  want  to  ask  a  million 
questions  at  once,  but  I  will  try  to  wait  patiently  till 
you  answer. 

"Our  Captain,  Miss  Phillips,  —  she  is  simply  won- 
derful —  took  eight  of  us  first-class  Scouts  to  Wash- 
ington for  three  days.  We  had  a  perfect  time,  lived 
in  a  big  hotel,  and  saw  all  the  sights  and  Saturday 
morning  we  went  to  the  Scout  office  and  it  was  there 
that  I  got  your  name  so  we  could  correspond. 

"And  that  reminds  me,  did  you  ever  live  in  New 
York?  I  knew  a  girl  —  or  rather  I  knew  of  her  — 
and  her  name  was  the  same  as  yours,  who  lived  there 
once. 

"We  went  camping  last  year  and  had  the  loveliest 
time  !  If  I  ever  meet  you,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it 
but  it  would  take  too  long  in  a  letter.  Next  year 


222  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

our  Captain  says  maybe  we  will  take  a  canoe  trip! 
Wouldn't  that  be  fun? 

"I  am  crazy  to  hear  about  where  you  go  to  school 
and  what  class  you're  in !  I'm  a  sophomore  and  I  go 
to  Miss  Allen's  boarding  school. 

"We  have  another  week  of  vacation  here  at  home 
so  I  wish  you  would  write  to  this  address  before  I 
go  back  to  school.  Then  I'll  try  to  answer  promptly, 
too. 

"Your  Sister  Scout, 

"MARJORIE  WILKINSON." 


After  the  letter  was  posted,  Marjorie  waited 
breathlessly  for  an  answer.  She  watched  for  the 
postman  faithfully,  refusing  to  go  away  from  the 
house  when  he  was  due.  But  three  days  passed  by 
without  her  hearing  a  word. 

On  the  fourth  day,  she  became  so  restless  and 
nervous  that  her  mother  noticed  that  something  was 
wrong,  and  asked  what  the  trouble  was. 

"Nothing,  only  I'm  corresponding  with  a  Girl 
Scout  in  Trenton,  and  I  hoped  I'd  get  a  letter  before 
I  go  back.  And  to-morrow's  Friday — there  are  only 
two  days  left." 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  gazed  searchingly  at  her  daugh- 
ter. Marjorie  had  always  been  truthful,  but  this  ex- 
planation did  not  sound  plausible.  Girls  did  not 
usually  get  so  worked  up  over  letters  from  other 


GOOD  TURN  223 

girls  whom  they  had  never  seen.  That  part  of  the 
explanation  was  true,  she  knew ;  for  Marjorie  could 
not  conceal  her  eagerness  for  the  postman,  and  her 
depression  when  she  received  nothing.  But  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  feared  that  her  interest  had  something  to 
do  with  John  Hadley,  and  she  sighed.  Marjorie 
was  too  young  to  care  seriously  for  anyone  yet. 

But  Friday  morning's  mail  brought  the  coveted 
letter.  Marjorie  seized  it  eagerly  and  ran  off  with  it 
to  her  own  room.  Assuredly,  it  would  tell  her  some- 
thing about  Frieda ! 

The  handwriting  was  a  trifle  cruder  than  that  of 
most  girls  of  her  own  age,  but  she  hardly  noticed  that. 
Feverishly,  she  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  read, 

"DEAR  MARJORIE, 

"I  was  very  glad  to  receive  your  letter  so  soon, 
hardly  hoping  anyone  would  want  to  correspond 
right  now.  I  guess  when  you  hear  that  I  am  a  mill 
girl  you  will  not  want  to  correspond.  I  have  worked 
in  Trenton  going  on  four  months  now  and  I  like  it 
very  much.  I  go  to  night  school  and  there  I  met  my 
girl  friend  and  we  started  the  Scouts  here.  I  am 
only  a  tenderfoot  now,  hoping  to  be  a  second-class 
Scout  before  summer.  Our  troop  never  went  camp- 
ing yet.  We  are  too  poor. 

"Hoping  that  you  will  still  want  to  write  to  me 
even  though  I  do  work,  I  am  yours  truly, 

"JENNIE  PERKINS." 


224  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"But  she  doesn't  say  whether  she  ever  lived  in 
New  York,  or  where  she  comes  from!"  cried  Mar- 
jorie,  in  despair.  "I'm  just  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
ever! 

"I'll  just  have  to  get  it  out  of  her,  bit  by  bit. 
And  maybe,  even  if  she  isn't  Frieda  Hammer, 
Pansy  troop  could  help  her  a  whole  lot." 

So  Marjorie  decided  to  write  to  her  again  im- 
mediately, telling  her  more  about  the  troop,  their 
hikes,  and  their  good  times.  She  posted  the  letter 
Saturday  morning.  She  knew,  of  course,  that  she 
and  Ruth  were  taking  the  Sunday  train  to  Miss 
Allen's. 

As  they  entered  the  main  hall,  Ruth  remarked 
that  they  might  as  well  stop  in  the  post-office. 

"We  probably  won't  get  anything,"  she  said ;  "but 
somebody  might  have  written  here." 

Marjorie's  heart  bounded  with  sudden  joy  when 
she  beheld  a  letter  in  her  own  mail-box.  It  was 
registered,  too;  evidently  the  post-mistress  had 
signed  for  it.  Seizing  it  hastily,  she  looked  expec- 
tantly at  the  postmark.  Her  hopes  fell;  it  was 
stamped  "New  York."  She  was  disappointed  at  this 
fact,  but  nevertheless  she  opened  the  letter  eagerly; 
for  school  girls  do  not  receive  registered  letters 
every  day. 

The  first  thing  that  caught  her  eye  was  a  well- 
known  greenback. 


GOOD  TURN  225 

"Money!"  she  cried.  "Look,  Ruth — twenty — 
thirty — thirty-five  dollars !" 

"Who  from?"  asked  Ruth,  with  surprise. 

Marjorie  turned  the  paper  over  in  which  the  bills 
were  enclosed,  and  discovered  some  writing,  which 
she  proceeded  to  read  aloud,  while  Ruth  listened 
with  increasing  amazement: 

"From  Frieda  Hammer  for  canoe  and  carfare  be- 
longing to  M.  Wilkinson  and  Pansy  troop  Girl 
Scouts." 

"And  postmarked  New  York!"  repeated  Mar- 
jorie, not  knowing  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  at 
its  receipt.  For  she  rejoiced  that  Frieda  had  paid 
back  the  Scouts'  money,  but  all  her  hopes  of  her  un- 
known correspondent  being  Frieda  were  dashed  to 
the  ground.  For,  undoubtedly,  she  concluded,  the 
girl  was  still  in  New  York ! 


226  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    PIONEER    BADGE 

"I  DO  not  believe  our  benefactor,  whoever  he  is, 
picked  out  the  hardest  test  in  Scouting,"  remarked 
Ruth,  as  Captain  Phillips  finished  explaining  the  re- 
quirements. 

"I  agree  with  you,  Ruth,"  assented  Miss  Phillips. 
"But  we  shall  have  a  hike  every  Saturday  night  dur- 
ing April  to  study  and  practice  the  different  require- 
ments. The  final  hike,  to  learn  how  to  build  a  lean- 
to,  will  be  to  the  Boy  Scouts'  cabin;  for  they  are 
going  to  teach  us. 

"Now,"  she  concluded,  "there  is  one  thing  more 
I  want  to  talk  about — and  that  is  the  money  we 
have  in  the  treasury.  Counting  what  Frieda  Ham- 
mer just  returned  to  Marjorie,  there  is  about  three 
hundred  dollars — a  little  more,  perhaps.  That  is  a 
lot  of  money  for  a  troop  like  ours.  And  since  we 
earned  it  to  use  for  our  'Good  Turn,'  I  don't  think 
it  would  be  right  for  us  to  spend  it  upon  ourselves. 
But  what  do  you  all  think?" 

"I  agree  with  you  perfectly,  Captain,"  said  Edith 


GOOD  TURN  227 

Evans.  "Just  because  one  plan  failed,  that  is  no 
reason  why  the  troop  should  stop  all  of  its  good 
work.  I  suggest  that  a  committee  be  appointed  to 
visit  the  local  charity  organization,  and  find  out 
where  assistance  is  most  needed." 

But  before  anyone  else  could  speak,  Marjorie 
jumped  to  her  feet. 

"Captain,  are  we  sure  that  we  have  failed  with 
Frieda  ?  Doesn't  the  very  fact  that  she  returned  the 
things  she  took,  of  her  own  free  will,  show  that 
wherever  she  is,  she  is  progressing?  You  all  know 
that  the  Frieda  Hammer  we  knew  at  camp  would  not 
have  considered  it  wrong  to  steal,  or  would  even 
have  thought  of  returning  the  goods!  So  it's  just 
possible,  don't  you  think,  that  she  may  turn  up? 
Couldn't  we  wait  just  a  little  bit  longer?" 

Lily  and  Doris,  who  both  knew  how  close  the 
project  was  to  Marjorie's  heart,  spoke  in  favor  of 
waiting  until  the  first  of  June. 

"That  will  still  leave  us  time  to  spend  the  money 
before  the  seniors,  who  helped  to  earn  it  as  much  as 
any  of  us,  leave,"  put  in  Ethel,  who  usually  took 
sides  with  Marjorie  in  a  discussion. 

Ruth  said  nothing;  she  knew  it  would  be  of  no 
avail.  For  by  this  time  she  was  beginning  to  realize 
Marjorie's  popularity,  and  considered  it  more  dis- 
creet not  to  oppose  her  openly. 

Accordingly,  Marjorie  got  her  way.  She  had  two 
months  left  in  which  to  trace  Frieda,  and,  if  she 


228  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

found  her,  to  offer  her  a  new  chance.  The  whole 
affair  had  grown  to  be  an  obsession  with  her;  it 
seemed  as  if  she  desired  it  more  than  anything  else 
in  the  world. 

It  was  still  very  cold  when  the  first  Saturday  in 
April  arrived;  but  Miss  Phillips  told  the  girls  to  be 
prepared  to  hike,  no  matter  what  the  weather  might 
be.  Early  in  the  afternoon  they  started  off,  well  for- 
tified against  the  cold. 

"We  are  going  to  the  cabin  to-day,"  announced 
the  Captain,  as  they  walked  along  in  a  group.  "Mr. 
Remington  and  two  of  the  boys  will  be  there  to  give 
us  a  lesson  in  the  use  of  an  axe." 

"Which  two  boys?"  asked  Doris  innocently,  be- 
traying the  fact  that  she  was  more  interested  in  the 
boys  than  in  learning  woodcraft. 

Everybody  laughed. 

"I  won't  tell  you!"  replied  Miss  Phillips,  ever 
mysterious;  and  each  girl  secretly  hoped  it  was  the 
boy  she  liked  best. 

"It  certainly  is  cold  for  April,"  remarked  Ethel. 

"Yes ;  it's  an  east  wind,  too,"  observed  Miss  Phil- 
lips. "And  in  this  part  of  the  country,  that  means 
rain." 

"How  do  you  know  it's  an  east  wind,  Captain?" 
asked  Mar j one. 

"Well,  I  happen  to  know  that  we  are  walking  to- 
wards the  north,  and  since  I  can  feel  it  blowing 
against  me  on  the  right  side,  I  naturally  know  it  to 


GOOD  TURN  229 

be  an  east  wind,"  explained  the  Captain.  "If  I 
didn't  know  which  direction  is  north,  I  couldn't  tell 
an  east  wind  from  a  west  wind.  But  I  can  tell  you 
how  to  determine  which  quarter  the  wind  is  from 
when  it  is  not  blowing  strong  enough  to  feel  it 
against  you.  There  are  several  simple  ways :  one  is 
to  watch  the  way  smoke  travels ;  another  is  to  note 
the  movement  of  the  tree-tops.  But  sometimes  you 
have  neither  smoke  nor  trees  at  hand ;  then  the  best 
method  is  to  put  your  forefinger  in  your  mouth  and 
moisten  it,  and  hold  it  up  in  the  air :  the  side  which 
feels  coolest  is  the  side  the  wind  is  blowing  on.  I've 
never  known  that  way  to  fail,  in  my  own  experience, 
even  when  there  did  not  seem  to  be  a  breath  of  air 
stirring." 

All  the  girls  who  heard  this  description,  immedi- 
ately stuck  their  fingers  into  their  mouths  and  then 
held  them  in  the  air,  to  try  it.  , 

"Mine  feels  the  same  temperature  all  the  way 
around,"  observed  Ruth. 

"Oh,  that  is  because  there  is  too  much  wind  to- 
day," replied  Miss  Phillips.  "You  can  really  tell 
better  by  that  method  when  the  wind  is  just  percep- 
tible, than  when  it  is  strong." 

They  reached  the  trolley  line,  upon  which  they 
rode  for  several  miles,  and  then  hiked  the  remaining 
distance.  It  was  not  yet  three  o'clock  when  they  ar- 
rived at  the  cabin. 

"Hurray  for  the  Girl  Scouts !"  shouted  a  familiar 


230  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

voice,  and  Dick  Roberts  and  Marjorie's  brother  Jack 
flung  open  the  wooden  door.  Mr.  Remington,  be- 
hind them,  echoed  a  more  dignified  welcome. 

"Did  you  bring  the  axe?"  asked  Marjorie. 

The  Scoutmaster  pointed  to  a  leather  sheath,  fas- 
tened to  his  belt. 

"Here's  my  Plumb"  he  said ;  "it's  the  official  Boy 
Scout  axe.  I  always  carry  it  when  we  go  into  the 
woods." 

"But,  Captain  Phillips,"  protested  Doris,  "you 
surely  don't  expect  us  to  wear  those  things  in  our 
belts,  do  you?" 

"Not  at  teas  and  on  shopping  expeditions!" 
laughed  Miss  Phillips;  and  the  girls  smiled  at  the 
idea  of  dainty  Doris  Sands  decorated  with  such  a 
deadly  weapon  on  her  person.  A  bunch  of  violets 
seemed  more  appropriate  for  her  adornment. 

Mr.  Remington  asked  the  girls  to  pay  close  atten- 
tion while  he  explained  the  general  rules  and  pre- 
cautions in  the  use  of  the  axe.  At  intervals  during 
his  talk,  he  called  for  demonstrations,  first  by  Jack 
and  then  by  Dick,  until  all  the  important  points  had 
been  emphasized. 

"And  now  for  volunteers!"  he  called,  when  his 
brief  discourse  was  finished. 

Ruth  Henry  stepped  forward  bravely. 

"It's  pretty  sharp,"  said  Jack,  handing  the  axe  to 
her  carefully. 

Ruth  picked  it  up,  and  lifted  it  boldly  to  her  shoul- 


GOOD  TURN  231 

der.  Keeping  her  eye  on  a  certain  spot  in  the  log  at 
which  Mr.  Remington  directed  her  to  aim,  she 
swung  the  axe  too  quickly.  Her  effort  was  good, 
but  her  grasp  not  sufficiently  tight;  the  tool  slipped 
from  her  hand  and  fell  swiftly  to  the  ground,  miss- 
ing her  foot  by  only  an  inch  or  two. 

"Ruth!  Do  be  careful!"  shrieked  Doris.  "Oh, 
I  know  we'll  kill  ourselves !" 

"No,  you  won't,"  said  Mr.  Remington,  reassur- 
ingly. "Now,  rest  a  minute,  and  then  try  again." 

This  time,  although  she  wielded  the  axe  awk- 
wardly, she  managed  to  hit  her  mark. 

All  that  afternoon  the  Girl  Scouts  resolutely  stuck 
to  their  task,  until  their  hands  became  sore  and  blis- 
tered, and  their  shoulders  ached  from  the  exercise. 
Finally,  Mr.  Remington  called  to  them  to  stop,  com- 
plimenting them  upon  their  perseverance. 

"But  you  will  need  a  great  deal  more  practice  be- 
fore you  attempt  to  build  the  shack  and  the  fire- 
place," he  concluded. 

"I  thought  we  would  go  out  the  next  two  Satur- 
days and  practice  what  you  have  taught  us,"  said 
Miss  Phillips ;  "and  in  the  meantime,  I  will  give  the 
rest  of  the  Pioneer  test.  Then,  the  last  Saturday  in 
April,  I  will  bring  all  of  the  girls  that  have  success- 
fully passed  the  other  requirements,  to  try  out  in 
this." 

"Very  good,"  replied  Mr.  Remington.  "The  plan 
suits  me.  Let  me  know  how  many  girls  you  expect 


232  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

to  have,  and  I'll  bring  the  same  number  of  boys,  and 
we'll  make  a  picnic  of  it." 

"And  you  girls  all  work  hard!"  said  Jack,  "for  we 
want  a  big  crowd.  The  more  the  merrier !" 

And,  indeed,  the  Girl  Scouts  meant  to  work  hard, 
for  the  passing  of  the  Pioneer  test  carried  with  it 
such  a  wonderful  reward.  Even  the  new  girls,  who 
had  all  successfully  passed  their  second-class  tests 
by  that  time,  threw  themselves  wholeheartedly  into 
the  effort.  The  days  flew  swiftly  by;  all  too  soon, 
it  seemed  to  the  girls  who  did  not  consider  them- 
selves sufficiently  prepared,  the  time  for  the  an- 
nouncement of  those  eligible  for  the  final  test  ar- 
rived. Of  the  twenty-four  girls  in  the  troop,  there 
were  a  number  who  had  no  expectation  of  being 
included  among  the  list,  for  one  reason  or  another. 
Among  this  group  were  several  of  the  seniors,  who 
expected  to  work  during  the  summer,  and,  there- 
fore, did  not  try  to  pass  the  test ;  and  several  of  the 
newer  girls  had  found  the  effort  beyond  them. 

Miss  Phillips  felt,  however,  that  she  had  reason 
to  be  proud  of  the  number  of  candidates  who  had 
qualified  thus  far.  She  read  the  list  at  the  Scout 
meeting  on  the  Friday  evening  preceeding  the  final 
hike  and  picnic  with  the  Boy  Scouts. 

"I  wish  that  we  might  include  everybody,"  she 
said ;  "but  I  realize  that  would  be  impossible.  How- 
ever, I  congratulate  the  following  girls : 

"Edith  Evans,  Helen  Stewart,  Frances  Wright, 


GOOD  TURN  233 

Ethel  Todd,  Marian  Guard,  Ada  Mearns,  Lily  An- 
drews, Ruth  Henry,  Doris  Sands,  Marjorie  Wilkin- 
son, Anna  Cane,  Evelyn  Hopkins,  Florence  Evans, 
Alice  Endicott,  Mildred  Cavin.  , 

"Of  course,"  added  Miss  Phillips,  "this  does  not 
mean  that  you  will  all  fifteen  pass  the  Pioneer  test. 
Indeed,  the  worst  is  yet  to  come.  But  the  final  de- 
cision rests  with  Mr.  Remington." 

The  following  day  was  mild  and  warm,  and  the 
girls  were  all  in  the  highest  spirits.  Arriving  at  the 
cabin,  fifteen  Boy  Scouts  greeted  them  noisily,  ask- 
ing them  provoking  questions  about  the  shack  they 
intended  to  build,  vainly  endeavoring  to  catch  them. 
But  the  girls  were  well  prepared,  and  more  or  less 
confident  of  success. 

"I  never  saw  such  progress,"  commented  Mr. 
Remington,  as  he  set  the  girls  to  work.  "Why,  with 
a  hundred  years'  practice,  they  might  turn  out  to  be 
as  good  as  my  boys !" 

"Mr.  Remington,"  said  Ruth,  as  she  paused  for 
a  moment  after  putting  a  stick  in  position,  "won't 
you  please  remove  these  troublesome  insects  ?  They 
retard  my  progress !" 

"Insects!"  repeated  the  Scoutmaster;  "do  you 
mean  ants?" 

"No,"  laughed  Ruth ;  "big  insects !    Boys !" 

"All  right !  Suppose  you  boys  all  go  and  collect 
stones  for  the  fireplace,  so  that  the  girls  can  set  to 
work  at  that  as  soon  as  they  finish  their  lean-tos!" 


234  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"And  won't  we  get  a  minute  to  rest  ?"  asked  Ada, 
lazily.  She  was  beginning  to  be  tired  already. 

"Rest!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Remington;  "you  surely 
didn't  come  here  for  that !  But  you  can  take  it  easy 
at  supper,  for  the  boys  are  going  to  prepare  the 
whole  meal  for  you." 

It  was  almost  dark  when  the  weary  Girl  Scouts 
gathered  about  the  fireplace  where  the  supper  was  to 
be  eaten.  Never  did  a  meal  taste  so  good,  for  the 
girls  thought  they  had  never  been  so  tired  or  so  hun- 
gry before.  They  talked  little,  but  they  were  quite 
content.  The  lean-tos  and  the  fireplace  were  all  fin- 
ished ;  they  were  now  enjoying  not  only  the  satisfac- 
tion of  achievement,  but  the  anticipation  of  their 
great  reward :  the  summer's  canoe  trip.  No  wonder 
they  were  happy! 

"Can't  you  tell  us  who  passed  ?"  begged  Ruth,  as 
they  were  finishing  their  cookies. 

But  Mr.  Remington  shook  his  head. 

"I  don't  know  myself,  Ruth,"  he  replied.  "I  gave 
certain  marks  for  certain  things.  I  shall  have  to 
add  the  averages  up  at  home,  and  send  the  list  to 
Miss  Phillips." 

"Then  we'll  know  to-morrow  ?"  pursued  Ruth. 

"You'll  know  at  Scout  meeting  next  Friday !"  de- 
clared Miss  Phillips,  in  the  tone  which  everyone 
knew  to  be  final. 


GOOD  TURN  235 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    TRIP    TO    TRENTON 

WHEN  Marjorie  thought  of  what  the  passing  of 
the  Pioneer  test  would  mean  to  her,  she  felt  that 
nothing  could  bring  her  more  happiness  than  to  hear 
her  own  and  Lily's  name  read  from  the  list  by  their 
Captain  at  Scout  meeting  that  night.  But  when  she 
perceived  an  attractive  little  envelope  in  her  mail 
that  evening,  and  when  she  saw  upon  examinaion 
that  the  postmark  was  Princeton,  she  experienced  an 
even  greater  thrill  of  anticipation. 

The  envelope  proved  to  contain  an  invitation  from 
John  Hadley  for  his  club  dance  at  Princeton.  Mar- 
jorie uttered  a  little  squeal  of  joy,  and  wished  that 
Lily  were  there  to  hear  of  her  good  fortune. 

She  turned  around  quickly,  for  someone  was  en- 
tering the  office.  It  was  Ruth  Henry! 

"You  look  as  if  you'd  struck  a  gold  mine,  Marj !" 
said  the  other  girl.  "Whatever  has  happened  ?" 

'rjust  a  dance  invitation.    But  a  very  nice  one!" 

"I  seem  to  have  a  letter,  too !"  exclaimed  Ruth,  al- 
ways anxious  for  mail.  "I  wonder  who  from !" 


236  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Why,  it's  the  same  shape  as  mine!"  cried  Mar- 
jorie,  in  astonishment.  "Could  it  possibly  be  from 
Princeton  ?" 

"Very  likely!"  said  Ruth,  proceeding  to  open  it. 

"Do  you  suppose  Harold  Mason  belongs  to  the 
same  club  as  John  Hadley?"  asked  Marjorie. 

Laughingly,  they  put  the  invitations  together. 
They  were  identical — the  only  dissimilarity  being 
the  boys'  visiting  cards. 

"What  fun !"  said  Ruth.  "It  will  be  so  much  nicer 
to  go  together." 

"But  how  can  we  go?"  demanded  Marjorie,  her 
face  suddenly  sobering.  "Miss  Allen  would  never 
let  us." 

"We  won't  ask  Miss  Allen!"  declared  Ruth, 
boldly.  "We'll  just  go  home  over  the  week  end — 
it's  the  second  Saturday  in  May,  you  know — and  ask 
either  of  our  mothers  to  chaperone  us !" 

The  girls  discussed  the  plan  as  they  went  in  to 
supper.  So  excited  were  they  that  they  almost  for- 
got that  the  list  of  those  who  had  passed  the  Pioneer 
badge  would  be  read  at  Scout  meeting. 

But  the  other  girls  had  not  forgotten,  and  when 
Miss  Phillips  realized  their  nervousness  she  decided 
not  to  delay  the  proceeding  any  longer  than  neces- 
sary. Accordingly,  as  soon  as  the  opening  ceremony 
and  preliminary  business  was  over,  she  made  the  an- 
nouncement. 

"I  am  afraid  there  will  be  some  disappointments," 


GOOD  TURN  237 

she  said,  "but  it  could  not  be  helped.  You  have  all 
been  marked  fairly,  and  I  am  sure  you  would  not 
want  to  pass  too  easily. 

"And  for  the  benefit  of  the  girls  who  can't  go  on 
the  canoe  trip,  I  want  to  say  that  the  next  summer 
I  intend  to  take  the  troop  to  a  big  organized  camp 
where  there  are  other  Scout  troops.  And  I  shall 
include  everyone  who  wants  to  go,  provided,  of 
course,  that  she  is  at  least  a  second-class  Scout. 

"I  congratulate  the  following  girls,  and  request 
that  they  come  forward  to  receive  the  Pioneer 
badge : 

"Edith  Evans,  Helen  Stewart,  Frances  Wright, 
Ethel  Todd,  Marian  Guard,  Lily  Andrews,  Ruth 
Henry,  Marjorie  Wilkinson,  Doris  Sands,  Florence 
Evans,  Alice  Endicott,  Mildred  Cavin,  Evelyn  Hop- 
kins." 

Amid  the  shouts  of  their  companions,  the  girls 
stepped  up  to  receive  their  badges.  None  of  the  girls 
whose  names  had  not  been  called  seemed  really  dis- 
appointed; probably  they  had  all  realized  that  they 
stood  no  chance  of  passing  the  test.  The  successful 
Scouts  had  earned  their  reward  faithfully;  there 
was  no  jealousy  or  envy  among  the  less  fortunate. 

Marjorie,  therefore,  was  perfectly  satisfied  with 
the  results.  She  had  lost  her  own  canoe,  but  she  had 
it  back  again,  and  now  she  was  to  have  a  glorious 
trip  during  the  vacation,  accompanied  by  Lily  and 
Doris,  and  her  beloved  Captain.  She  was  thankful, 


238  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

too,  that  Ruth  had  received  the  badge ;  for,  had  she 
been  left  out,  she  might  have  made  things  uncom- 
fortable for  the  girls  who  had  passed. 

While  Marjorie  was  waiting  for  an  answer  to  her 
letter  from  her  mother,  she  was  surprised  to  receive 
a  letter  from  Jennie  Perkins.  It  was  just  another 
friendly  letter,  telling  little  about  herself,  and  much 
about  her  troop  and  its  activities.  Marjorie  looked 
immediately  for  the  postmark,  and  was  disappointed 
to  find  it  again  Trenton,  and  not  New  York. 

"We  are  going  to  hike  to  Princeton  next  Satur- 
day," she  wrote,  "and  perhaps  go  through  the  col- 
lege. Some  of  us  have  uniforms,"  she  added ;  "and 
some  of  us  just  have  to  wear  our  plain  clothes.  I 
am  in  this  class  for  I  have  not  saved  enough  money 
yet  to  buy  mine.  But  I  want  to  get  it  by  June  first, 
as  that  is  my  birthday." 

Marjorie  opened  her  eyes  wide  as  she  read  these 
words;  Jennie  Perkins  would  be  at  Princeton  the 
same  day  she  would — at  least  if  her  mother  let  her 
go !  What  should  she  do  ?  Tell  her,  and  try  to  meet 
her?  But  now  that  she  was  almost  convinced  that 
Jennie  was  not  Frieda  Hammer,  she  was  not  so 
anxious  to  meet  her;  and  if  she  were  Frieda,  under 
the  assumed  name,  the  latter  would  probably  avoid 
such  a  meeting. 

"I  don't  believe  I'll  say  anything,"  she  finally  de- 
cided; "for,  even  if  I  were  sure  I  wanted  to  meet 
her,  how  could  I  tell  when  I'd  get  to  Princeton? 


GOOD  TURN  239 

And  a  misunderstanding  might  spoil  a  very  pleasant 
correspondence." 

Much  to  Marjorie's  joy,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  wrote 
that  she  and  Mr.  Wilkinson  would  drive  the  girls  to 
Trenton  the  afternoon  of  the  dance,  and  make  ar- 
rangements to  stay  at  some  hotel  there  over  night; 
and  that  the  boys  could  call  for  them  there.  The 
plan  suited  Marjorie  perfectly;  the  arrangement  of 
staying  in  Trenton  meant  another  hope  of  meeting 
Frieda — or,  rather,  Jennie. 

When  Saturday  came,  and  Marjorie  and  Ruth 
left  the  school  together,  it  seemed  quite  like  old 
times ;  for  recently  they  had  not  spent  much  time  to- 
gether. Marjorie  and  Lily  had  become  inseparable, 
while  Ruth  spent  her  time  with  many  different  girls. 

When  they  reached  their  destination,  both  girls 
were  surprised  to  be  met,  not  by  members  of  their 
own  families,  but  by  Harold  Mason. 

"And  when  did  you  come  home?"  asked  Ruth, 
nevertheless  beaming  a  welcome. 

"This  morning;  and  John's  with  me.  We  mean 
to  drive  you  girls  over!" 

"Isn't  it  pretty  far?"  inquired  Marjorie,  doubt- 
fully. She  could  hardly  take  in  Harold's  words — 
that  John  Hadley  was  actually  visiting  him.  Why 
had  he  not  driven  over  to  the  station  to  meet  them  ? 

Reading  Marjorie's  thoughts,  Harold  explained 
that  John  was  expecting  a  long-distance  call  from 
Trenton. 


240  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"His  mother  is  staying  there  with  a  friend,  and 
as  she  is  one  of  the  patronesses  of  the  dance  she  will 
chaperone  you  girls.  We  thought  we'd  drive  over 
this  afternoon  and  have  supper  with  Mrs.  Hadley's 
friend,  and  then  all  go  to  the  dance.  And  we'll  all 
drive  back  here  afterward — Mrs.  Hadley  and  John 
are  to  stay  at  our  house." 

"Lovely!"  cried  Ruth;  for  this  program  stretched 
the  party  over  a  longer  period  than  they  had  antici- 
pated. 

Marjorie  had  not  seen  John  since  the  previous 
Thanksgiving  and  she  realized  that  she  was  becom- 
ing rather  excited.  When  the  machine  drove  up  to 
Mason's,  he  was  on  the  porch  to  meet  them. 

"By  George !  this  is  great !"  he  cried,  running 
down  and  opening  the  door  of  the  car.  "I'm  so  glad 
to  see  you — both !" 

He  shook  hands  with  Ruth  and  Marjorie,  and  the 
girls  got  out  of  the  car,  Ruth  running  in  next  door 
to  find  her  mother. 

"It  was  lovely  of  you  to  invite  me,"  said  Marjorie, 
a  little  at  a  loss  regarding  what  to  say  after  so  many 
months. 

"It  was  wonderful  of  you  to  come,"  he  replied, 
sincerely.  A  sudden  pang  of  jealousy  seized  him. 
What  had  Marjorie  been  doing  all  this  time?  Had 
another  fellow  cut  him  out?  They  had  exchanged 
only  two  or  three  letters  during  the  whole  year,  and 
all  of  these  had  been  very  impersonal. 


GOOD  TURN  241 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  said  Marjorie,  turning  to 
Harold,  "I'd  like  to  go  see  mother.  For  I'll  be  with 
you  people  all  afternoon  and  evening." 

"Certainly,"  assented  Harold;  and  John  flushed 
at  his  own  egotism  in  expecting  Marjorie  to  prefer 
his  society  to  that  of  her  own  family. 

A  little  after  two  o'clock  the  Ford  sedan  again 
drove  up  to  Wilkinsons',  and  Marjorie,  with  her  lit- 
tle bag  in  her  hand,  appeared.  Ruth  was  already  in 
the  front  seat  with  Harold,  and  John  got  out  and  as- 
sisted Marjorie  into  the  back  seat  beside  him. 

If  John  Hadley  hoped  for  a  tete-a-tete  with  Mar- 
jorie, he  was  greatly  disappointed,  for  both  girls 
seemed  to  be  plotting  to  keep  the  conversation  gen- 
eral. They  asked  all  about  college,  and  the  club,  and 
the  dance ;  Marjorie  wanted  to  hear  something  about 
the  towns  of  Trenton  and  Princeton ;  and  both  girls 
talked  animatedly  about  the  summer's  canoe  trip. 

"And  we  both  passed  the  Pioneer  test !"  explained 
Ruth,  triumphantly. 

"Great !"  exclaimed  John ;  and  a  minute  descrip- 
tion of  the  hike  and  the  test  followed. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  reached  Trenton,  but 
before  the  machine  crossed  the  bridge,  it  passed  a 
certain  dingy  little  boathouse,  and  Ruth  and  Harold 
exchanged  significant  glances,  unobserved  by  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  back  seat. 

As  the  car  continued  along  the  principal  business 
street,  slowing  down  for  traffic,  Marjorie  noticed  a 


242  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

big  building  at  the  corner,  from  which  a  great  crowd 
of  girls  were  pouring.  As  they  approached,  she 
realized  that  some  of  the  costumes  were  strangely 
familiar ;  then  in  a  moment  it  dawned  upon  her  that 
they  were  Girl  Scouts ! 

"Oh,  wait,  wait!"  she  demanded,  greatly  excited. 
"Please  stop !  They're  Girl  Scouts !" 

"What  if  they  are?"  asked  Ruth,  coolly,  regard- 
ing her  in  disdain.  Was  Marjorie  crazy? 

"I  want  to  get  out !  Oh,  please  stop !"  begged  the 
frantic  girl. 

Harold  obediently  pulled  up  to  the  curb,  although 
he,  too,  shared  Ruth's  opinion.  It  seemed  silly — but 
it  was  beyond  him  to  understand  a  girl. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  get  out,  Ruth?  Remember 
our  fourth  law !" 

"Marj,  that's  silly.  Just  because  we're  'sisters  to 
every  other  Girl  Scout'  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
get  out  and  make  friends  with  a  pack  of  mill  girls !" 

"Well,  then  wait  for  me !" 

And  in  a  flash  she  was  out  of  the  machine  and  up 
the  steps.  Venturing  the  Girl  Scout  salute,  she 
asked  the  girls  politely, 

"Can  anyone  tell  me  whether  Jennie  Perkins  be- 
longs to  this  troop?"  Her  voice  trembled  so  that 
she  could  hardly  speak. 

"Yes — she's  in  the  office,  waiting  for  her  pay  en- 
velope," replied  one  of  the  girls.  "Turn  to  the  left 
once  you're  inside." 


GOOD  TURN  243 

Marjorie  needed  no  second  invitation ;  in  a  second 
she  had  pushed  open  the  half -closed  door.  She  stood 
face  to  face  with  Frieda  Hammer! 

"Frieda!"  she  cried,  rushing  to  her,  and  throwing 
her  arms  about  her  neck. 

"Marjorie!"  sobbed  the  girl,  completely  breaking 
down,  and  hiding  her  head  upon  the  other  girl's 
shoulder. 

In  the  brief  glimpse  that  Marjorie  had  of  Frieda, 
she  saw  how  the  girl  had  changed.  Her  clothes  were 
neat,  and  her  hair  was  arranged  attractively.  More- 
over, she  looked  happy;  the  old,  sullen,  distrustful 
look  was  gone.  She  was  a  real  Girl  Scout  now,  and 
the  transformation  was  marvelous.  The  miracle 
was  accomplished,  though  by  a  far  different  method 
from  any  Marjorie  ever  dreamed  of. 

Little  by  little  Frieda  told  Marjorie  the  story  of 
her  struggle;  then  "of  her  work  here,  the  Girl  Scout 
troop  which  she  had  really  started  herself,  the  sav- 
ing of  the  money  for  Marjorie' s  canoe,  which  she 
had  had  mailed  in  New  York  in  order  to  mislead  the 
latter,  and  finally  of  her  progress  at  night  school. 

"Why,  it  sounds  just  like  a  fairy  tale,"  said  Mar- 
jorie. "Now  when  will  you  come  back  to  us?" 

"I  want  to  work  this  summer,  and  then — if  Pansy 
troop  still  wants  to  help  me — to  go  to  full-time 
school  in  the  fall." 

"Indeed,  we  do  want  to  help,"  said  Marjorie  pas- 
sionately. "But  you  must  fulfill  one  condition: 


244  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS5 

come  to  Miss  Allen's  before  May  first.    After  that 
we  were  to  give  you  up  as  lost." 

"I  will !"  agreed  Frieda,  "Could  I  come  next  Sat- 
urday afternoon?" 

"Yes ;  it's  the  day  of  the  Scouts'  out-door  musical 
comedy.  Promise  me?" 

"I  promise!" 

"Need  any  money  for  carfare?" 

"No,  thanks,"  replied  Frieda,  laughing.  "And  I 
expect  to  have  my  uniform  by  that  time.  But  don't 
tell  a  soul  that  you've  seen  me,  till  then!"  she  en- 
treated. 

"Not  a  soul!"  answered  Marjorie. 

Then,  kissing  her  goodbye,  she  was  gone  as  sud- 
denly as  she  had  appeared. 

"Did  you  have  a  nice  time,  Marj?"  asked  Ruth, 
rather  disagreeably,  as  Marjorie  climbed  into  the 
car  again.  "You  stayed  long  enough !" 

"The  best  time  I  ever  had  in  my  life!"  replied  the 
happy  girl,  emphatically  and  truthfully. 


GOOD  TURN  245 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
MARJORIE'S  TRIUMPH 

WHEN  Mrs.  Hadley  afterwards  spoke  of  Mar- 
jorie  Wilkinson,  she  called  her  "the  girl  with- the 
shining  eyes."  For  when  the  machine  stopped  in 
front  of  the  house  in  Trenton  where  she  was  visit- 
ing, and  the  young  people  ran  up  the  steps  to  greet 
her,  Marjorie  was  still  radiant  from  her  great  dis- 
covery. For  a  time  John's  mother,  who  immedi- 
ately took  a  tremendous  liking  to  the  girl,  attributed 
her  joy  to  anticipation  of  the  pleasure  that  awaited 
her.  But  later  she  realized  that  the  cause  for  it  was 
something  deeper,  something  within  Marjorie's 
heart. 

John,  too,  admitted  reluctantly  to  himself  that  he 
was  not  a  part  of  her  happiness.  It  had,  he  real- 
ized, something  to  do  with  the  Girl  Scouts,  and  espe- 
cially with  her  brief  visit  at  that  factory.  But  what 
it  could  possibly  be,  he  had  not  the  slightest  idea. 

The  girls  soon  became  entirely  at  home  in  their 
hostess's  house,  singing  and  playing  the  piano  until 
it  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner. 


246  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

When  Marjorie  came  downstairs  again,  dressed  in 
the  pale  blue  georgette  which  she  had  worn  at  the 
sophomore  reception,  John  Hadley  thought  he  had 
never  seen  anyone  so  beautiful.  Suddenly  he  real- 
ized, although  he  was  only  nineteen  years  of  age, 
how  tremendously  he  cared  for  this  girl.  Working 
hard  all  year,  partially  earning  his  way  through  col- 
lege, he  had  little  time  to  write  to  her ;  again  he  won- 
dered what  she  had  been  doing,  and  whether  any  of 
the  other  Boy  Scouts  had  claimed  her  attention. 
With  a  pang  of  jealousy,  he  became  aware  of  the 
fact  that  she  did  not  care  for  him  as  he  did  for  her 
— to  the  exclusion  of  all  others  of  the  opposite  sex. 
But  John  Hadley  forgot  that  Marjorie  was  only  six- 
teen— three  years  younger  than  himself. 

Neither  of  the  girls  had  ever  attended  a  college 
function  of  any  kind  before,  and  they  were  thrilled 
with  the  experience.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  many 
of  the  other  girls  wore  bobbed  hair,  and  all  had 
short  skirts,  they  felt  exceptionally  youthful.  Mar- 
jorie felt  shy,  too,  and  at  the  end  of  almost  every 
dance  she  brought  her  partner  over  to  Mrs.  Hadley's 
corner,  as  if  seeking  her  protection.  The  woman 
was  subtly  flattered;  if  Marjorie  had  tried  to  win 
her  affection,  she  could  not  have  chosen  a  more  di- 
rect method.  But  she  was  all  unconscious  of  the 
impression  she  was  making. 

Although  the  affair  was  not  to  be  over  until 
twelve,  the  boys  had  not  filled  out  the  girls'  pro- 


GOOD  TURN  247 

grams  for  the  last  dances.  So,  in  accordance  with 
Mrs.  Wilkinson's  wishes,  they  started  for  home  in 
the  machine  by  half -past  eleven.  To  her  surprise, 
Marjorie  found  that  she  was  sleepy;  and  making  no 
attempt  at  conversation,  she  leaned  back  against  the 
cushions.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was  fast  asleep,  her 
head  resting  against  Mrs.  Hadley's  shoulder. 

Sunday  passed  quickly  for  the  girls,  for  they  were 
both  tired  out,  and  their  parents  let  them  sleep  late. 
At  three  o'clock  they  took  the  train  for  school. 

"Nothing  but  rehearsals !"  yawned  Ruth.  "Don't 
you  wish  the  operetta  were  over?" 

"Yes — and  no,"  replied  Marjorie,  thinking  of 
Frieda's  promise.  "I  don't  mind  rehearsing  much. 
But,  then,  I  haven't  a  big  part." 

"No ;  neither  you  nor  I  can  sing  wonderfully,  can 
we?  But  didn't  it  make  you  feel  the  least  bit  badly, 
Marj,  after  being  heroine  last  year,  to  have  to  take  a 
back  seat  this  time?" 

Marjorie  regarded  Ruth  with  curiosity.  This,  in 
a  nutshell,  summed  up  Ruth's  character.  She  could 
never  bear  to  "take  a  back  seat." 

"Not  a  bit!  With  basket-ball  and  everything,  I 
was  glad  not  to  have  to  work  so  hard.  And  then 
I've  got  my  canoe  again,  you  know !" 

"Thanks  to  me !"  said  Ruth,  proudly. 

"Thanks  to  father!"  returned  Marjorie,  a  little 
sharply.  It  was  tiresome  the  way  Ruth  was  always 
fishing  for  compliments. 


248  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"I  say,  though,"  observed  Ruth,  "I  wish  I  could 
earn  that  medal  for  locating  Frieda  Hammer.  It 
would  be  the  first  medal  of  merit  in  the  troop!" 

"Medal !"  exclaimed  Marjorie.  "Goodness,  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  it !" 

"And  had  you  forgotten  all  about  her,  too?" 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Marjorie,  warmly.  "She'll 
turn  up  some  day.  And  if  she  does,  Ruth,  you've 
got  to  forget  that  she  ever  stole  anything.  For  she's 
made  it  up,  you  know !" 

Marjorie  looked  straight  into  Ruth's  eyes,  and 
seemed  to  pierce  into  the  hidden  motives  of  her  life. 
Ruth  lowered  her  lids  under  the  penetrating  gaze, 
and  answered,  somewhat  doggedly, 

"All  right !    Whatever  you  say !" 

"Thanks,  Ruth!" 

The  train  arrived  just  on  time  and  the  girls  went 
directly  to  their  rooms.  Marjorie  proceeded  to  tell 
Lily  all  about  the  dance. 

"Is  that  what  makes  you  look  so  happy,  Marj?" 

"Partly;  but  there's  something  else,  too." 

"Don't  you  want  to  tell  me  about  it?"  This 
softly,  without  curiosity. 

"I'm  dying  to,  Lil ;  but  I'm  so  afraid  it  won't  come 
true,  I  just  don't  dare.  It's  too  wonderful !" 

"It's  about  Frieda." 

"Lily  Andrews!"  cried  Marjorie,  aghast.  "How 
did  you  ever  guess  it  ?" 


GOOD  TURN  249 

"From  your  expression.  I  know  you  pretty  well 
now,  Marj !" 

But  Marjorie  would  not  permit  herself  to  tell 
even  Lily ;  she  had  given  her  word  to  Frieda  that  she 
would  keep  it  a  secret,  and  she  meant  to  keep  her 
promise. 

Saturday  came  with  weather  clear,  warm,  and 
beautiful.  The  operetta,  which  was  really  a  spring 
festival,  was  to  be  given  in  the  open-air  amphithe- 
ater of  the  school,  with  the  natural  scenery  of  the 
woods  and  the  lake  for  a  background.  The  Scouts, 
in  their  filmy  white  and  green  costumes  and  flowing 
hair,  looked  like  the  fairy  and  wood-people  they 
were  to  represent.  Ethel  Todd  had  the  leading  part ; 
Ruth  and  Marjorie  were  merely  in  the  chorus. 

Marjorie  dressed  early,  and,  slipping  a  cape  over 
her  costume,  went  to  meet  each  train.  Finally,  on 
the  last  one  to  arrive  before  the  play  was  to  begin, 
she  was  rewarded.  A  neat-looking  Girl  Scout  in 
khaki  uniform  stepped  from  the  train  and  hurried 
towards  her. 

It  was  Frieda  Hammer ! 

The  girls  kissed  each  other  and  went  up  the  walk 
arm  in  arm.  Marjorie  knew  that  Miss  Phillips  and 
most  of  the  Scouts  would  be  behind  the  scenes  at 
that  time,  so  she  took  Frieda  straight  to  her  mother 
and  father.  She  merely  introduced  her  as  a  "Girl 
Scout  from  Trenton,"  placed  her  beside  her  mother 
and  Jack,  and  went  back  of  the  scenes. 


250  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS* 

"May  we  have  a  little  meeting  after  the  play?" 
she  begged  Miss  Phillips.  "Right  here — it  will  only 
take  a  second !  Oh,  please !" 

The  Captain  consented,  for  she  was  too  busy  to 
argue. 

The  operetta  was  charming,  and  splendidly  per- 
formed; it  was  pronounced  the  prettiest  thing  ever 
given  at  Miss  Allen's.  During  the  intermission  the 
Principal  told  the  audience  about  the  Scout  canoe 
trip,  stating  that  the  proceeds  from  this  play  would 
be  used  to  buy  food,  and  that  an  anonymous  friend 
had  offered  to  supply  the  canoes. 

After  the  final  chorus  was  over,  Marjorie  ap- 
peared immediately — almost  miraculously,  it  seemed 
to  Frieda — among  the  audience,  and  sought  her 
family.  She  was  delighted  to  find  Jack  and  Frieda 
laughing  and  chatting  pleasantly,  quite  as  if  they 
had  known  each  other  all  their  lives.  Could  this  be 
the  same  girl  who  had  uttered  such  harsh  words  to 
Mrs.  Johnson  last  fall,  and  slammed  the  door  in 
their  faces  ?  She  had  changed  utterly ;  suffering,  re- 
sponsibility, kindness,  work,  and  the  influence  of  the 
Girl  Scout  principles  in  her  life  had  all  helped  to 
accomplish  it. 

"I  want  you  to  come  back  and  meet  the  members 
of  our  troop,"  she  said,  taking  Frieda's  hand. 
"They  are  waiting — but  they  won't  wait  long." 

She  found  the  girls  gathered  around  Miss  Phil- 
lips, intoxicated  with  their  success,  but  impatient  of 


GOOD  TURN  251 

the  delay  that  kept  them  from  joining  their  friends 
in  the  audience. 

"Captain!  Girls!"  interrupted  Marjorie,  out  of 
breath  from  her  haste  and  excitement.  "I  want  to 
introduce  a  Girl  Scout  from  Pine  Cone  troop  of 
Trenton.  But,"  she  added, — "first  of  all  she  be- 
longs to  Pansy  troop.  Miss  Frieda  Hammer!" 

The  girls  could  only  gasp  at  these  words;  for  it 
was  not  until  after  a  second  look  that  they  recog- 
nized the  country  girl  their  troop  had  tried  to  adopt. 
The  transformation  was  wonderful,  the  triumph 
complete!  And  they  all  realized  that  it  was  Mar- 
jorie's ! 

"And  you're  a  second-class  Scout!"  cried  Ethel, 
noticing  the  clover  on  her  sleeve.  , 

"And — own — a — pioneer — badge!"  said  Ruth,  in 
amazement.  "Why,  you  can  go  on  the  canoe  trip !" 

"I  only  won  it  last  Saturday,"  said  Frieda.  "Oh, 
I  should  love  to  go  on  your  canoe  trip — but — I  don't 
belong  to  Pansy  troop!" 

"You  certainly  do !"  protested  Lily. 

"I  tell  you  what  I  could  do!"  cried  Frieda,  with  a 
flash  of  inspiration.  "Do  you  need  a  cook?" 

"Indeed  we  do,"  answered  Miss  Phillips.  "I  said 
only  yesterday  that  we  must  get  some  one.  Can 
you  cook  ?" 

"I  think  so!" 

"Then  you're  hired!" 


252  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS' 

"Hurray  for  our  new  Scout !"  they  all  cried,  link- 
ing arms  in  a  great  chain. 

"And  for  our  'Good  Turn!'"  exclaimed  Ruth. 
"It's  done  at  last." 

"By  Marjorie  Wilkinson!"  added  Miss  Phillips. 
Then,  under  her  breath,  "The  Truest  Girl  Scout!" 

The  next  volume  in  this  series  will  tell  of  the 
Girl  Scouts'  Canoe  Trip. 


THE   END 


The 

Girl  Scouts 
Series 


BY  EDITH  LAVELL 

A  new  copyright  series  of  Girl  Scouts  stories  by 
an  author  of  wide  experience  in  Scouts'  craft,  as 
Director  of  Girl  Scouts  of  Philadelphia. 

Clothbound,  with  Attractive  Color  Designs. 
PRICE,  65  CENTS  EACH. 


THE    GIRL    SCOUTS    AT     MISS    ALLEN'S 
SCHOOL 

THE  GIRL  SCOUTS  AT  CAMP 
THE  GIRL  SCOUTS'  GOOD  TURN 
THE  GIRL  SCOUTS'  CANOE  TRIP 
THE  GIRL  SCOUTS'  RIVALS 

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Marjorie  Dean 

College 

Series 


BY  PAULINE  LESTER. 
Author  of  the  Famous  Marjorie  Dean  High  School  Series. 

Those  who  have  read  the  Marjorie  Dean  High 
School  Series  will  be  eager  to  read  this  new  series, 
as  Marjorie  Dean  continues  to  be  the  heroine  in 
these  stories. 

All  Clothbound.    Copyright  Titles. 
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MARJORIE  DEAN,   COLLEGE  FRESHMAN 
MARJORIE  DEAN,  COLLEGE  SOPHOMORE 
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MARJORIE  DEAN,   COLLEGE  SENIOR 


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Marjorie  Dean 

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Series 


BY  PAULINE  LESTER 

Author  of  the  Famous  Marjorie  Dean  College  Series 

These  are  clean,  -wholesome  stories  that  will  be  of  great 
interest  to  all  girls  of  high  school  age. 

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MARJORIE  DEAN,  HIGH  SCHOOL   SENIOR 


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Splendid    stories    of    the    Adventures 
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THE  BLUE  GRASS  SEMINARY  GIRLS'  VACATION  ADVEN- 
TURES; or,  Shirley  Willing  to  the  Rescue. 

THE  BLUE  GRASS  SEMINARY  GIRLS'  CHRISTMAS  HOLI- 
DAYS; or,  A  Four  Weeks'  Tour  with  the  Glee  Club. 

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or,  Shirley  Willing  on  a  Mission  of  Peace. 

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LIFE 


MILDRED    KEITH  MILDRED'S     MARRIED 

MILDRED    AT    ROSELAND         MILDRED  AT   HOME 
MILDRED    AND     ELSIE  MILDRED'S  BOYS  AND  GIRLS 

MILDRED'S    NEW    DAUGHTER 


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